Rites of Spring

There are certain rites of spring that are accepted in some circles. They vary greatly depending on what circle they're a part of.

For example, my mother and grandmother firmly adhere to the "Spring Cleaning" rites, airing out their homes, having drapes cleaned and even changing the "winter drapes" for the "summer" ones. Neither will rest until every inch of the house sparkles. Although I respect their right to ruin their manicures, I do not ascribe to the spring-as-houseslave credo. Yes, I'll wave the duster to each corner, as if saluting all points on the compass, but I refuse to break a nail over drapes. Not me. Nuh uh.

Others view springtime as the time for "Spring Break." Yep, time to head south, drink too much, party too hard, hook up with someone you barely know and puke your way back home. Again, not for me.

Then there are the gardeners. They see spring as the tilling time, the weeding time, the plowing time, the stooping-till-your-shoulders-break time, the planting time, the watering.... Well, you get my drift. Once more, not my style.

So what, then, is my spring ritual? My rite of spring, the thing that assures me that the warmer weather is here to stay?

One word.

Swimsuit.

Yes, it's the time for me to toss fray-bottomed, chlorine-bleached, droopy-bosomed, last-year's-color swimsuits and head to the store in search of replacements. By summer, I practically live in a swimsuit so I'll need a few.

What are your rites of spring? Tell me, please. I'm very curious. Besides, I'm just sitting here trying on swimsuits. I could use a diversion!!