Something about the green in May

Yes, we are well into June now. The trees have filled in so that I can barely see the river when I drive to work, and the shade of green has lost the hint of blue that only May has.
Nothing is more frustrating that someone who says "I don't know, but there's just something about it that's, y'know, different. I can't explain it."

May is that magical kind of month where things change. I have my favorite season (autumn), and can appreciate certain aspects of the rest of the year, but what I enjoy most is when the seasons change. Those subtle differences when the temperature drops, or when the afternoon breeze has a hint of chill or heat that didn't exist before. In May, the heat of the year doesn't yet cover everything with that kind of soft focus effect. A blue sky is indeed blue, all the way up to the horizon.

(As an aside, there are some crows outside my kitchen window and they are yelling it up. Something has made them unhappy. My cats are quite curious about it.)

Everything is coming out of the crisp of winter. Branches no longer look brittle, but as if their tips had been soaked to the point of exploding. A line of bare trees in spring have as many colors as they do in the fall when the leaves stop making chlorophyll.

And when the leaves finally do emerge it is as if they have absorbed part of that blue sky, which then bleeds down into the grass and flowers. A slow wash until June, when yellow becomes the undertone of the season.