There was no Spring.

The winter is over.  You think so?  Robespierre thought the Revolution was over in the beginning of his last Thermidor.  He lost his head after that.

When the first buds are set, and the corn is up, and the cucumbers have four leaves, a malicious frost steals down from the north and kills them in a night.

That is the last effort of spring.  The mercury then mounts to ninety degrees.  The season has been long, but, on the whole, successful.  Many people survive it.