Sometimes, we take the seasons for granted like people we don’t know walking down the street.

Winter, spring, summer and autumn come and go as if they are on a merry-go-round that never stops. Summer arrives with its golden sun, boundless energy and yards sprayed with the rainbow colors of flowers. We eat ice cream, attend summer street fairs, go on picnics and vacations, cut the grass and turn white when the electric bill comes with the cost of artificial coolness listed in the “Please Pay This Amount” column.

Fall takes us back to our childhood. Nanny, my grandmother who lived next door, always liked to taunt me about summer’s end and the fact that the next day I had to learn fractions from Mrs. Rataizcak. She knew Mrs. Rataizcak as I prepared for fourth-grade torture.

“You know what her nickname is?” Nanny said. “Mrs. Rat.” I would then break out in the sweat of the little kid in MTV’s “Hot for Teacher” video. Then she would soften her face with that smile of hers that would produce granny wrinkles around her eyes and ask if I wanted a half of her excellent meat loaf sandwich and gravy. I always did.

I always am ready to go back to school when I see kids standing on the corner in Dry Creek as they wait to be swallowed by yellow school buses.

The winter starts off with homes wrapped like Christmas presents with lights of twinkling colors, topped with large red ribbons and yards with Santa and holiday displays. But after the New Year, winter turns hard and cold. The barren black branches of once leafy neighborhood trees poke the sullen gray sky like swords. The winter clouds, overburdened with snow, cover the ground with white winter quilts. The calendar that moved so fast in summer slows to a crawl in winter. January and February move like tired old men. The cold settles into your bones.

When March comes, we feel a little relieved. But sometimes the month that brings spring fails to push winter out the door. We often tackle mammoth snows in the driveway in March. The only aspirin is the fact that March does bring spring.

And eventually it comes, a little timid at first. The green daffodil shoots struggle out of the crusted ground. Small and fragile crocuses dazzle us with their heartiness, their purple faces smiling at the melting snow and winter puddles.

The earth renews. The calendar turns. The days stretch longer, and the darkness retreats. A season of new life comes again, and new birth is heralded. What was old and dark is gone.

Welcome Easter.