I am writing this from the couch. On my body, a sweatshirt and sweatpants, socks with peppermints on them and a heated blanket thrown across my lap. It’s chilly.
This weekend was charming, bright sunshine and warm breezes across the days. I opened every curtain at John’s to let the brightness sink into the rooms. It helped make the normally shady apartment feel more alive. I even swept the back porch of leaves, thinking that afternoons sitting outside and reading were a reach away.
Today, the cold is settled back in. The sky is gray again although this morning the sun was shining bright. A tease, just like this weekend.
And yet, Spring starts in two days. Even now as I write this the snow drops are awake on the hill behind the house and at John’s, a whole naturalized patch underneath the tree in our yard. Day-light savings has changed the way the flow of time moves. I am tired earlier, I am awake with the dark. Soon the warmth will come and stay, until then we play this game with the weather. Short sleeves, winter coat. Sweatshirts and flip-flops. Sunglasses and a scarf. We see-saw between the end of winter and the edge of spring with our clothes and our sleep and our mood. At least I do. I hold on tight as the sun warms me from the outside in. Even though the chill is still in the air. For today, two days from the official turn of the season, the promise is enough.
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