But someone else has already shown up whose arrival makes me shout for joy every year. It’s lemonade, it’s lemonade, it’s daisy. It’s a roller-skating, scissor-grinding day;It’s gingham-waisted, chocolate-flavored, lazy,With the children flower-scattered at their play. Springtime in the Smokies So begins one of my favorite childhood poems: “April” by © Marcia Lee Masters. As a farm kid growing up in northern Illinois, I longed for spring. Waiting for April’s arrival was like