March went out like a lion, a whipping up the water in the bay.
Then April sighed, and stepped aside, and along came pretty little May.
May was full of promises, but she couldn’t keep ’em quick enough for some.
And a bunch of doubting Thomases kept predicting that the summer’d never come.
But it’s coming by gum. I can feel it come.
Loook around, look around, look around.
June is busting out all over–all over the meadow and the hill.
Buds are busting out of bushes and the little river pushes every little wheel that wheels behind a mill.
Because it’s June. June. June. June.
Just because it’s June, June, June! –from the musical Carousel.
Well, it’s not June yet, but March has left us and April is a third over. Spring is here in all its glory, and I am thankful for the warm temperatures, the green grass–even if it must be mowed, and for the hope of summer. Before we know it, June will be busting out all over.