I have a really bad habit of wanting spring to start two days after Christmas. Winter’s fresh is cleansing, but I’ll take spring’s colorful warmth any time. So here we are in the middle of February. I count the days til the pool opens. I resent forcing carseat straps over thick, heavy coats. I shuffle snow around my front steps in search of brave bulbs peeking green beneath hard ground. I break my own rules of moment cherishing by longing for a season that isn’t ready yet. So this is me, calling a truce with winter.
Do you have a truce you need to call? A gift you need to reluctantly unwrap? We would love to hear about it.
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