There are a lot of poems, letters, stories, and speeches that have tried to encapsulate the particular magic of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in the spring.
They're about basketball season, and the way rushing Franklin Street feels on an early spring night.
They're about dogwoods blooming, and blossoms falling on notebooks as students study in the quad.
They're about frisbees thrown across walking paths, about graduation pictures by the Old Well, about blue folders as prospective students fall more in love with each passing minute.
They're about walks through Battle Park, about stargazing in Forest Theatre, and about trips to YoPo.
If it wasn't clear, I love Carolina in the spring. I love the way campus comes back to life. I love the way the quad fills up with picnickers, studiers, dogs, families, frisbee throwers, sunbathers, and slackliners. I love the way the blossoms fill up every part of campus, giving everything a pink blush look. I don't love the pollen covering everything, but I do love the way it makes golden hour look a bit more golden.
I think one of my favorite things about spring, though, is the chance to see other people fall in love with the place I'm so lucky to call home.
I think for me, it's because I so adamantly didn't want to love it when I toured here. I was sure that I knew enough about North Carolina after spending four years in elementary school and two years in high school here, and I certainly had no interest in familiarizing myself with the state's flagship university. I toured the pesky school eight miles down the road in the morning, and I hated it (so at least I have that to be proud of!). Touring UNC that afternoon, I was convinced I'd feel the same way. They're only eight miles apart, how could they be so much different? And yet they were.
I walked onto the campus here and immediately loved how much my tour guide loved this place. I loved how much the traditions mattered, and I loved how much they all loved Carolina blue - it had always been my favorite color. I was hooked.
Almost a year later, two days before College Decision Day (or, as applied-to-twelve-schools me saw it: Doomsday) I woke up and asked my mom if she'd rather go to UVA or UNC with me for the day. She said UNC, and the rest was pretty much history - I came up here to walk around again, took some pictures by the Old Well... This was the only place I couldn't see myself NOT going, and I knew.
So I think the reason I love seeing other people tour and fall in love with the traditions and colors and flowers and sunny, Carolina blue sky days is because I love imagining that they're having the same realization I had: there's nowhere else like this.