Sorry I make you lush

I like seasons. One of the best things about living far away from the equator is is being able to spectate the yearly cycles of nature. I'm writing this since The Moment happened today. Today I first felt like that spring is beginning and taking over from winter.

I used to be a winter person, but that seems to have changed in the recent years. These days I look forward to staying up for ridiculously long in the midnight sun and watching the waves gently break against the rocky shoreline, or having spontaneous kick abouts with a couple of friends in the neighbourhood football pitch, or waking up incredibly energetic when the sunlight reaches your chin after being filtered through a bunch of birch branches and leaves in front of my window.

Even back in those days when I loved ice hockey and used to go out and play virtually every night during the winters, I liked spring. I wasn't sad to see winter go away. As much as I enjoy spring, I pay it some respect. While people often say that it is the time of happiness and hope and love and whatnot, I'm not entirely convinced. Surprisingly many of the people I've talked to seem to perceive spring as emotionally the most difficult season, just as I do. I don't really know why. Is there a similar effect as in the Christmas time? So many expectations about how great everything must be that it burns some people out?

Or is it just the fact that I know mostly Finns?

Anyway, that being said, my trek to the campus this morning was one of the best I've ever had. I barely got out of the door before realizing that this is the day. My personal spring. The sky was presenting all the bright blue shades in its disposal, the sunlight felt a lot warmer and personal than it has been during my stay in here so far and everything was sprinkled with dew. The combination of these did wonders to amplify the colourfulness of this country to even higher, previously unreached levels.

The red steel roofs looked blindingly bright and the greens were deeper than they've ever been. The metallic turquoise paint in a landmark jeep in Hallgrimskirkja parking lot was was shining like it actually was coated with the gems. The asphalt looked as if it was freshly laid, the oily glow shimmering on the surface. Light was being so playful with the moist surfaces that all the colours seemed ridiculously exaggerated, very reflective and slightly unreal.

The world was an oil painting and I was walking in it.