Good Vibrations Magazine

I was standing on the corner when these two girls came my way in skirts too small to hide anything. Then along came a breeze and up went those skirts, and down went their hands, but not before a sight of thigh and a glimpse of Venus.

They giggled. I smiled.

Spring had arrived.

Luscious Spring. Raucous Spring. Scenting, blooming, lazing spring when flowers purse their lips and butterflies emerge with their come hither wings and the girls, they come down the street in their swinging, singing skirts, waiting for a breeze and smiling like candy.

It was as if the wind had read my mind.

But that wasn’t it.

With spring the wind is of the same mind. For one blessed season we are in concert with nature.

No matter how green you are most of the year we humans are out of step with nature in one significant way. We perpetually desire sex. All year long we hunger for one another. Nature is not like that.

Plants and animals repose in the summer time. It’s post-coital bliss; as bliss’ go it’s one of the best. They’ve had their fun, or put their work in (think salmon) and are now just lazing about. And who should be found running through this lazy landscape but us; chasing after one another, a margarita in one hand, a promise in the other.

In autumn plants shrivel, animals prepare to nest, and the leaves begin to die. Rather macabre that we romance one another to the beauty of their death throes. Nature says next year, after we’ve rested. Humans say now, Now, Now!

Winter is little deterrent to the sex-addled human. While bears hibernate and trees stand empty, we offer to keep each other warm, maybe learn new tricks in a hot tub on a mountaintop with three strangers, a blow-up doll, and a flying trapeze catcher named Hans.

But in the spring we are not alone. In spring nature has transformed herself into temptress and for one brief, shining moment we are at one with the planet. Even the wind is randy. The two girls and me were just there; it was springtime that created our street corner tête-à-tête.

Flowers spearhead the season. In spring the flowers spread their legs and perfume the world.

They want you to come take their pollen. Bees love the sweet scents while butterflies and birds are all about the color. Notice the way a flower’s colors seem to direct your eye to their middle; like a woman in a pair of lo-riders? The reward is always nectar.

In spring as we ache, want, touch, the Lady Slipper Orchid is right there beside us. Shaped like a delicate ballet slipper it has a fragrance inside that is irresistible to flies. The flies fall in and become intoxicated. They stumble around in bliss (pre-coital which is even more delicious), managing to climb towards the exit at the top of the orchid. There, pollen sacks are stuck to the fly’s back. Once outside the fly wants to feel it all over again and so goes to another orchid. Stumbling around in drunken bliss the fly deposits the pollen and voilà, pollination.

This is what makes spring special. We’re all up to the same thing. And that energy is out there, it’s in the world bouncing around between all of us. The rest of the year we’re listening to music on our headphones but in spring it’s an outdoor concert and we’re feeding off each other, touching, singing, grooving off this rhythm that’s both inside and outside. In spring there’s sexual harmony, the orchid’s scent, the fly’s intoxication, the wind, the skirts, and me on the corner.

That’s why people love the islands in the tropics. The vegetation is always described as lush, meaning full of juice, succulent, drunk. Lush like velvet, like lips, like thighs. In the tropics the plant world is always alive, calling out, begging to be touched. It may be January but in Hawaii the flowers are right there with you. Or perhaps you are with them.

When Jasmine flowers bloom at night they’re calling suitors, they’re walking down the street in a short skirt and thigh high boots. And if you’re lucky enough to be sitting beneath a trellis full of jasmine on a warm night and can’t figure out why you want to grab the nearest piece of flesh it’s because you’ve found yourself right in the middle of an orgy.

Right now the Japanese Cherry Blossoms are blooming in Washington DC. Conservative politicians are strolling beside them on a chaste outing unaware of the truth of their surroundings. It’s a Cherry Blossom sex party, a horticultural Woodstock.

So ride the wave that is spring. Let your eyes roll over whatever your lust desires. Because the whole world is offering itself, the whole world is ripe with sin and Lady Slipper Orchids are damning themselves to hell.

The Bible never says which season Eve ate that apple in, but I’ll bet you it was spring. And that serpent was just a metaphor. That serpent belonged to Adam. And with Eden’s flowers yawning wide and the perfume in the air Eve took Adam beneath an apple tree and along came the wind and blew her fig leaf right up. Can you really blame them?