Even though February was the shortest month of the year, sometimes it seemed like the longest.
We’re barely past the middle of this short-month-that-feels-so-long and I’m done with it. The days are noticeably longer, and we’ve had a smattering of sunny days to keep the winter blahs at bay but, the longing for spring is so strong it almost hurts.
I find myself missing the milder Pacific Northwest where I could, by now, be enjoying the first flowers and where I could spend an hour outside in nature. Here I eschew the cold, and a walk outdoors at these temperatures doesn’t invite me at all.
Thirty-three days until spring. I think I can. I think I can.