Of course it can still snow. I know that. But for now it isn’t. For now it’s going to be 17 glorious degrees and I’m already planning how I’ll play hookey. (I wonder what the regional expressions for that are? Something like “jigging” in the Maritimes, I think…)
For now it’s about happy dogs named Rex and Dexter that I met in the park—ecstatic about not having salt biting their feet, and to be out of those goofy faux sheepskin coats (I know the feeling). And a young girl with red hair, white skin and a pink smile, sitting beside her dad in a car with all the windows down and her hands at ten to two on the wheel.
It’s about walking around your backyard or down the street and suddenly finding green things coming up out of just-last-week-hard-as-cement-earth—a tiny miracle, that. And every year I wonder how I missed the moment when the world turned from frozen dead to small perfect blossoms and tender shoots.
It’s all just a little giddy-making… like anything is suddenly possible.
(Including snow. I know. But not today.)