The huge snowdrifts by the blacktop were shrunken and sooty, and a saline slush soaked winter coats, boots, hats, snow-pants. I liked to suck on my mittens and taste that slush. It tasted dirty and salty and good.
This February is nothing like that. It is all sun and bitter-cold, glass-like snow. But I have come around to February. I like anticipation, and I like quiet. February has plenty of both.
I have been collecting picnic blankets and planning seed purchases. Lengthening days do me good; spring is on my mind and in my heart.
And it takes a bitter winter to really enjoy spring. I really believe that. At least this year.
I think we are all in for something good.