Spring comes each year in a predictable pattern.
The first sign that winter is over is the blooming of what I call the "pollen trees", with their white and pink blooms. The next sign is that I notice that I'm sneezing a lot more often, even though I don't have a cold. The blooming of daffodils isn't far behind once the sneezing season begins.
Next comes the rain, the wind, and the mud. In between rainstorms, many days I wake up to the less than melodious drone of lawnmowers.
I really know spring is here when local birds go on dive bombing missions with my car as the target. For a couple of weeks now, I've gone to get in the car and it's splattered from front to back with bird shit. There's no point in washing it, because the birds will just coat it again by morning. It's to the point where I'm wondering if there are red circles painted on my roof that only birds can see. The only upshot to this is that I'm at least grateful that cows can't fly.
I'm still waiting on the last sign that winter is gone for good: the yellowish-green pollen dust that will coat my car to complement the white polka dots of bird crap as a spring fashion statement.