Poets often laud spring as a beautiful season, alive with new possibilities and promise. April showers bringing may flowers, apple blossoms glistening star like in the morning mist, love flourishing midst the woodland animals. That kind of crap.
These poets have obviously never spent the springtime month of April in Maine. Because in Maine April is a grey, filthy, depressing month. One filled with showers, yes, but the kind that bring mud long before flowers; the kind that fill bogs and swamps with stagnant water that will eventually come alive only with mosquitoes whose lone promise is a progeny who will continue to haunt and hover throughout the summer.
R.J. Keller 
I, Pennsylvania, hereby challenge Maine to a “revolting gray April” contest. Whichever state makes you ralph first, wins. Robin Altman, currently trapped within my foul clutches, will post icky pictures on her blog. You up for it? (Gray pictures of Denny’s are considered cheating.)
Maine replies:
“You’re on, PA! Bring it!”
As I like to say: “April showers bring May flowers / May flowers bring allergy hours.”
But I don’t think I’ve ever written anything about sunny, nice Spring days…as I’ve always like the cold, overcast and rainy days. I’m weird that way.
These rains are awful. I used to think fall was depressing but now, after moving to US, I see that spring can be too.