I can't get enough of our house in the springtime. The forsythia bush blooms bright yellow and is followed shortly by the tulips (I planted them last fall and was ecstatic to see them come up in such force). Then there's the piece de la resistance - our cherry tree.
Blake and I have both decided that if anything ever happened to the cherry tree that we'd have to move. It's just so much a part of the identity of the house. Our yard would feel naked without it.
When it's in full bloom, I can smell it wafting down the street about a block and a half away. The sun is always hitting it just-so as I'm walking home from the metro and it makes my heart burst with how much I love where we live. The first thing I do when I get home on those nights is to crank open all of the windows and let the scent fill the house. It feels and smells like spring. It's magical.
On a different note, I also think we're single-handedly employing all of the honey bees in the metro area during the two weeks it's in bloom. The whole tree buzzes happily with activity.