BY AFSHAN NABI (MBG/III)
afshan.nabi@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
Spring, the season friendliest to life, is on its way.
Soon, we will be able to forget the harshness of winter: blackened skeletons of trees will vanish from our minds, along with images of the earth entirely covered in a morbid white.
A softer wind will blow across the land. Trees will shake the snow off their branches to prepare for the growth of the first leaves. Grass, green as the color of delight, if delight had a color, will take hold of the earth, releasing it from the clutches of icy hands; the snow will melt away. Buried seeds, sensing the coming warmth and light, will poke their green shoots out to take a better look. Flowers, in all their assorted colors, will gaze with wonder upon the brilliant blues of the sky. Bees will wake and begin their busy humming; birds will sing their glad hearts out. Life will course through the sleeping earth’s veins, and all of a sudden, we will look around and find spring has come.
It will be wonderful, like it always is!
Day or night, it will become extremely hard to stay indoors (and in class).
To celebrate, I would like to share a story with you all.
There are many stories describing the magic of the first spring, but I have chosen one that describes the birth of flowers.
Here is the story. Gather around!
Once upon a time, before this world had any flowers, an ancient people inhabited the Earth. Many details about them have long been forgotten, but it is known that their kings had the power to 
control the seasons. Everyone, of course, knew that it was better to let the seasons take their own course, and so these powers were used only when the need was great. However, one day a reckless king inherited the throne. He was fascinated by the power he had been granted over the seasons and longed to use it. In the beginning, restrained by his fear of the consequences, he made only small changes – a slightly brighter sun or a marginally colder wind. Over time, however, he began to grow bolder and less mindful of the outcomes – he would cause the rain to fall for days and after that, the sun to shine ever brighter. He found autumn depressing and decided that summer should instantly turn into winter. He changed the seasons as often as the fancy struck him; it was not uncommon for his subjects to live through a bitterly cold morning with howling winds and drifts of snow, followed by a warm summery afternoon with golden sunshine and the bluest sky.
Naturally, these changes wreaked havoc: crops were destroyed, people and cattle died, and floods were frequent. But the king, safe in his castle, refused to listen to his advisors or his people. His heart had been consumed by the power that he had dared to use frivolously; he could not stop.
As the king grew older, his daughter, who was to inherit the throne, began to acquire his polluted power. She was maddened by it, itching to use it without need; but she had seen and understood the destruction it caused. In an attempt to resist its temptation, she stopped eating and drinking, hoping that abstinence would strengthen her will. She left the castle and stood in a field outside to feel the sting of the seasons more deeply. She worked desperately to bring the wayward power under her control. After several days of standing in erratic rains, hot sun, cold winds and icy nights, she slowly began to manage it. She seized it from her father, preventing him from further corrupting it. Eventually, the power became pure again, and the seasons began to stabilize. But the daughter was so weak from lack of food and drink, and the exposure to harsh nature, that she collapsed onto the ground and fell into a deep sleep from which she was never to wake.
When the castle guards found her, they saw a miracle, the likes of which had never been witnessed before: the field she lay in was filled with flowers of every color of the rainbow. Over the next few weeks, spring arrived, for the first time, with a profusion of sweet-scented, bright flowers. People marveled at the beauty of these flowers they had never seen before and planted them everywhere.
Ever since then, spring has been a season of wild hopes that take shape. It is said that if you find a field of flowers in the spring, you can hear the daughter’s spirit singing songs of joy and hope there.
P.S.: I found this funny Calvin and Hobbes strip about spring.