Spring in south Georgia — I usually explain to people who are not from around here — generally lasts about three days and those three days are not always consecutive. The pattern goes something like this: Chill and rain set in for a week followed by one gloriously sunny day during which the azaleas on Savannah Avenue burst forth like showgirls on the Las Vegas strip. The next morning, in a fit of ill-advised optimism, I wear something with short sleeves and spend the entire day shivering under a sky gray as General Lee's Traveller.