Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column fondly remembering ... spring.

You remember those days of freshness and optimism and hope, when we were emerging from winter storms, the plants were budding and it was warm enough to fire up the grill on the back deck without needing to cozy up to it as well?

Yeah, spring happened in, like, a week.

It finally stopped snowing earlier this month...we hope.

The aspen trees went from their stark winter dormancy to full leaf in — we swear we’re not making this up — two days.

The Colorado Rockies launched their defense of their National League title and just as quickly faded, their “June swoon” occurring in April and May.

And suddenly it was fashionable again to wear white buck shoes with our seersuckers.

Now we’re in full-blown summer, and, mind you, we don’t exactly mind the predictably nice weather (thunderstorms included) and the glorious sight of persons of the opposite sex wearing something slightly more revealing than five layers.

But there is something lost in not really having much of a spring, a time of rebirth, when anticipation of the good days ahead is just as fun as the good days ahead.

Ol’ Robert Frost got it right when he penned the words:

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her harvest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down today.
Nothing gold can stay.