There are a million ways to herald Spring. As universal as they seem, they are all contextual. Here it's robins and cherry blossoms and daffodils, but in other hemispheres the signifiers are different. South of the equator it's 6 months away. Some climates barely have discernible seasons. When we were farmers, it was planting season. But now in my office building I reap and sow from 9 to 5. In the city the trees change, sure, but on the ground if there's no snow it's the same concrete soil trod on by pigeons and dogs' paws (in booties) or loafers and sneakers and pumps. The flowers are confined to florists and bodega buckets or the little landscaped patches watered by doormen. Other signs are the misty eyes of hay fever sufferers, flat screen TVs showing baseball games in bars,  and the way pedestrians waiting for a light to change will tilt their heads upwards slightly to feel the warmth of the sun.