The art of not being one with the universe

Spring is here, a-suh-puh-ring is here.
Life is skittles and life is beer.
I think the loveliest time of the year
Is the spring. I do, don’t you?
‘Course you do.
But there’s one thing that makes spring complete for me,
And makes every Sunday a treat for me:

All the world seems in tune on a spring afternoon,
When we’re poisoning pigeons in the park.
Every Sunday you’ll see my sweetheart and me,
As we poison the pigeons in the park.

(Tom Lehrer)

Not only has the snow nearly melted, and the ice on Sognsvann is breaking up, but here and there tufts of fresh clorophyll poke out of the withered lawns and fields. Even the trees are about to burst to life. And only a month or so late.