Finally…I hate to admit it because I love winter. I love fresh, white snow and crisp, cold air that crackles in my lungs- incidentally NY has nothing on Ontario where I grew up, where my glasses were iced with frozen breath from November to April and where my hair once froze hard enough that I could snap it in half-, and I like to make snowmen and have snow ball fights and build forts,and now that I have a pugnacious and energetic kid of my own I have every excuse to get out there and mess around and act the fool.
But round about March I start to yearn for warmer temperatures. I am equally enamoured of hot. Sizzling hot days with skies so blue they ‘re almost violet; no clouds, just a whisper of a breeze and the sound of cicadas humming underground. Ahhhhh. So these longer days, the slightly more temperate weather hovering around 50 degrees with the promise of 60’s and 70’s just around the corner, have arrived just in time in my opinion. I have hibernated, I have done the long underwear thing, and I have fallen on my **** on the freezing rain lake that used to be our driveway and I have had enough.
As the air warms I feel my energy level rise and rise. The world is green and new. I wake to the sound of birds singing. In a few months I’ll be begging that dawn chorus to shut up and let me sleep past 5 but right now it sounds like the heralds of spring. The sap is running and I feel like writing for long, hazy hours with the light coming golden through the curtains. It’s on days like this that I wish I had a cat which could lie in a shaft of sunlight on the rug at my feet, but the baby will have to do.
Happy Spring everyone!