Hope is in the air. We’ve had our 70-degree tease of spring, and though there are several weeks to go before we officially move out of winter, I sense a light at the end of the tunnel. This is my favorite part of anything anyway: the anticipation. Spring holds the bright possibility of being perfect, or at least better than last year. It’s an annual wish, and one that I’m always happy to make.
If you envision it, somehow it will manifest itself.
I’m in no rush, and neither is winter. We haven’t seen the last of the snow or ice or wind. We’ve still got a ways to go. Who knows how lion-like our entry into March will be, but we’re on the right track, baby.
Until then, the prettiness of life in a northern town.
