It’s been unseasonably warm here of late. The snow is receding at an alarming rate from the valley floor. The other night I woke up to the sound of rain pounding on our metal roof. Although cloudy today, we’ve also been having a fair amount of sun and I find myself naturally gravitating to the outdoors. I went for a walk with a friend and we unzipped our coats on the hills. I ran in 3/4 length running tights and my shins didn’t turn bright red. We fed the ducks at Woodland park and we (almost) didn’t care about the duck-poo-sludge covering the ground. It felt so good to be outside and the kids climbed trees and explored the brushy, rocky edges of the pond. We got out Sam’s bow and arrows and shot them down at the sand pit.
The flip side to this pre-spring fever is that my inside life feels so … stale. My house, my head… it’s all stuffy and dusty and it needs a good stiff breeze to blow through it and freshen things up. So I’ve been opening a window. Literally. The one by our dining table, where life happens. When I sit down to work there I have this little stream of fresh air moving over me. It makes me shiver sometimes. The heater kicks in to compensate but I don’t care. It smells fresh and earthy and it feels like a new start. Motivation and energy are slowly returning to my sluggish winter muscles and hibernating head, seeping in on the wind from the open window.
Spring, real spring, might still be more than a month off but for now I’m enjoying this pull toward Spring, toward new beginnings and fresh dreams just at my fingertips.