means spring

Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthosue sagged in the square. Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer's day; boney mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three-o'clock napes, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.

I love spring. and I love To Kill a Mockingbird. And reading To Kill a Mockingbird means spring. This is the fourth year of reading this book, ushering in spring in Atlanta. It's full of memories of blossoms and light green buds, reading on the porch and smelling the spring smell. It's my favorite book, and I love that it has associations so lovely too. I love that when we finish, we will watch Gregory Peck, and it will be truly warm, and nearly time for the lovely festival outside my front door.

I love everything about To Kill a Mockingbird. I love every word and the way it sounds when you read aloud. I love the part above, especially those last two sentences. I can hear the narrator's voice in the film saying it with that gentle lull. And then I can hear Dill, popping out of the collards patch, and Atticus's voice calling, 'Scout'...