I think the loveliest time of the year is the Spring, I do.
Spring means far too much yardwork.
Spring means mud on your shoes, on and in your car, and into your home. Spring, in the United States, means taxes. On a whole, I prefer autumn, when gentle decay waves over a land tired from the excesses of spring and the toils of summer, and the only odd bill due is for the county sticker for my minivan. There are some nice aspects to spring. When I was in school, there was the eagerly awaited spring break, when I'd make large drinks involving vodka and grapefruit juice cocktail, and sit out on the balcony to work on all those long-term research papers I could not devote much time to in the rest of the semester.