When I was younger, I thought cantaloupe, avocado and coffee were the nastiest things a person could consume.

Now, my quest for the not too ripe avocado takes a good portion of my grocery shopping trip every week, and while I’m not dependent on coffee, I’ve been known to drink it for enjoyment purposes, not just an energy jolt.

Adulthood comes with acquired tastes.

A newly acquired one for me is springtime. I’ve never been a fan. Fall is obviously the best season. Sweaters, warm days, cool nights, sleeping with the windows open and waking up chilly but cozy in the morning. The leaves, the smells. Is there any part of autumn that isn’t lovely?

Summer. Well, I hate the heat, more so as I age, so I guess summer is slipping in the ranks. I still have school age kids, though, so I just enjoy the change of pace that comes with it. I enjoy late nights, sitting on the porch, not having to fight with kids to get out of bed for school in the morning. Summer has swimming, flowers and my former favorite holiday, July Fourth.

I love snow. I love looking at it, I love walking in it, I love skiing on it. I love playing with the dogs in it. I love how silent the entire world gets during a heavy snow. I love unexpected snow days and the time it gives me with my quickly growing kids. Winter brings pots of soup and cozy days sitting by the wood stove while I work and the dogs nap and dry off after expending all their energy rolling around and digging through the snow. I wouldn’t mind winter lasting another month or two.

But spring? Spring is mud. Spring is the unveiling of all the mess that the snow covered up. It’s dirty streets, covered with anti-skid. A car wash that lasts three minutes. A floor that is never free from muddy paw prints. Naked trees. A season full of dressing for the wrong weather every single day. The stress of wondering if my perennials will actually wake up this year. I have just never been a fan.

This year, however, this year things have changed. First, after the brutally cold stretches we had this winter, and the constant battle to keep the temperature in the house warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing, and failing, I am just so darn glad to be able to turn the thermostats back down. Extremely cautious about doing it, but relieved, nonetheless. I’ve already burned through the amount of coal that usually lasted until next fall. That alone would make spring a welcome visitor.

But it’s more than that. After our trials and errors last year, G and I have a good plan ready for the garden, including expanding it. Longer days have given him the daylight to get home from school and practice and still have time to spend a few hours puttering.

Fences have been getting fixed, weeds have been cleared, rocks have been excavated and relocated, and a greenhouse (more of a green shack) has miraculously been built.

We have a large part of the yard to repair following last fall’s water fiasco, which required the digging of a new well, and it’s been getting done. Usually, the winter to spring transition involves a lot more shaking of the cobwebs before the progress starts to happen, but we seem to have hit the ground running this year.

On top of that, the fruits of our labor’s past are finally starting to develop. As we started to gently clear some of the flower beds (I try not to disturb too much of what naturally falls on the ground to preserve the habitat for whatever little critters are sheltered in it), I’m happy, and a little proud, to see that so far, everything we planted over the last two years seems to be coming back.

We weren’t entirely sure what we were doing back then, and still aren’t, but with a little help from Google, and a lot of good luck, it seems that our thumbs are a little greener than we thought.

I’m particularly excited about a large patch of iris that I planted, a little late, last fall. Previous plantings had all been gifts of established rhizomes from friends and they’d taken off immediately.

This time, I ordered a mixed lot of clearance rhizomes and had little faith that I planted them correctly. They’re all turning green and growing beautifully already. I can’t even describe how excited I am to see what colors turn up.

It turns out that spring is an amazing season. I still don’t know how to dress for it, but I’ll get there. Oh, and cantaloupe is still pretty gross, in my opinion.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News