In my older age I have figured out these things about spring.

I don't remember ever caring about the seasons that much when I was younger. I don't remember feeling all that different in the winter compared to the summer. I knew old people liked to talk about the seasons as though they made that much of a difference, but I always just though that was old-people talk. Well now I have a little age, a little wisdom, and I realize:

-In the spring I really do get extra horny.
-Two of the seasons' names are verbs (Spring, Fall), and two aren't, and there's a way that makes sense.
-It really is pretty when stuff starts having flowers on it. For real.
-In the spring it really does rain a lot. That isn't just something they say. Last week it rained for like 62 hours straight.
-In the spring I have vast reserves of hyper energy, even more than usual.
-Springtime always seems like a good time to produce stuff. I mean to toil at something that leaves a tangible result.
-Some kind of plants that bloom in the spring can elicit an immediate, fixed emotional response. E.g. redbuds=wistful.
-Girls who were already beautiful look even more beautiful in the springtime. This is not just a clothes thing, or a corollary to spring fever, I am convinced this is some sort of chemical factor with the air and the skin.
-There is something different in how light diffuses, or else something different about our eyes, or maybe both. I think if you didn't know if it was fall or spring you could tell by looking at anything.
-Certain types of music sound better a little quieter in spring.
-People's hair looks better in the spring. Also the spring wind blows people's hair differently, and it looks great. People look great in the spring.
-The springtime is the hardest time to collect and focus one's hate. That shit just doesn't seem to matter as much in the spring.
-It feels way better to get really really hungry before you eat in the spring. I think this may be a learned response to poorly planned BBQs that turn out just right.
-My heart will be stolen and my breath taken by a girl walking in the spring. She won't know she has stolen my heart and taken my breath. This will happen up to seven times on a spring day, each time as catastrophic as the last.
-One thinks more with one's hands in the spring. Take that how you want, I give it honestly and lewdly.