Yes, sadly, I’m writing my gratitude entry about springtime. In January. That should tell you a lot about me.
We had a snap of warm weather here in October. And November. And December. Which I guess makes it less of a snap and more of a recurring theme, now that I think about it. Those 65 to 70 degree days that kept rolling in were gorgeous. T-man relentlessly pulled out shorts every chance he had, regardless of the calendar, and ran around outside with gleeful abandon.
I love warm weather. Extremely hot weather not so much, but definitely warm weather.
January showed up with a vengeance after we enjoyed a beautifully sunny Christmas with plenty of outdoor play. Overnight temps are dropping into the 20s, daytime highs only reaching the low 40s. (I know this might seem whiny since there are plenty of folks out there who’ve actually had SNOW already, but around here we don’t even get close to a chance for flakes until late January or February.) It’s cold. COLD, people.
But boy do I love the spring. When the weather starts to turn just enough that short sleeves are comfortable again. Seeing the tiniest buds appear on the trees and watching them slowly bloom into their colorful flowers. Feeling the sun on my face without enduring the bite of a cold breeze cutting through the air.
Even knowing it’s the onslaught of allergy season, I still love the first time I drive through the neighborhood and catch a whiff of freshly cut grass. Seeing tulips bloom and leaves appear on the trees. Even dealing with those crazy birds chasing each other across the street, usually right in front of my car, reminds me that it’s spring. Everything’s waking up and getting ready to start a new life cycle. It feels…hopeful.