With temps finally reaching above freezing – thanks Mother Nature, for such a cold winter – I, like many Central New Yorkers, am already catching that dastardly ailment – Spring Fever.

Although we did make the most of the cold months – skiing, ice skating and gathering with friends and familiy – it will be wonderful to be able to just step outside without having to bundle up or shovel the walkway.

Spring sports will occupy much of our time, but we will surely be spending time outside without participating in an organized outing.

We will grill.

We will walk, run and bike.

We will do yard work.

We will roast marshmallows over our fire pit.

And the ever-present hulk of a structure, more formally called a swingset, will be used yet again by my children.

Each year, we toy with the idea of putting an advertisement in the paper selling the set, which features overhead “monkey” bars, a “fort,” spiral slide, a wood-and-plastic version of a rock climbing wall and, of course, the required swings.

“We could even offer it for free, if the person who wants it comes and hauls it away himself,” my husband would suggest. I guess he must remember what a pain it was to put the set up in our backyard in the first place (I think it took a whole weekend, a lot of sweat and a few off-color words.)

And again, each year, the kids protest that they will still use it. So my husband and I look at each other, shrug with a we’ll-see resignation, and drop the subject.

As spring turns into summer, our children’s prophecy has always proved accurate. They spend time playing made-up games and visiting worlds they create via the weather-beaten hulking mass of wood, metal and plastic we bought less than a decade ago from a local home store. Their friends come and join them in their quest for the highest swing, the quickest monkey bar crossing and the strongest heart attack they can give me with their fearlessly daring moves, punctuated by the occasional bathroom break and request for ice pops.

As with anything involving my children, I feel a certain melancholy as I consider the playset. I remember pushing my children in their infant swings – Cassidy with her cries of “Higher! Faster!” Or Jacob, waiting for me to give him a boost up the ladder or rock wall in order to take a turn on the slide.

Now, more often than not, I look out my kitchen window to see my daughter standing atop the monkey bars, seemingly unconvinced of her own fragility in a way only the young and inexperienced can be. Or I will witness my son schlepping up the spiral slide, unmindful (and perhaps, uncaring) of the fact that someone is on a collision course with him, feet first. (Check out some tips for a safe playground, below.)

There’ve been a few tears as a result of play on the set, but there have been far more smiles.

So, I guess we’ll keep it, for now – apparently, spring is also a time to stock up on sunscreen, antibiotic cream and bandaids.