Snow days

This morning, we woke up to four inches of snow. I still feel that giddy surprise when I open up the curtains and see it blanketing the pasture—snow day! The Friendly Red Pen office stayed open . . . no slippery commute to endanger travel to the desk. But snow days always feel special, not a little magical, somehow set apart. 

 

 

 

But of course it's tonight that the antsyness that's been growing within me recently decides to really move in to stay. Spring. Doesn't spring sound nice? I'm all for lazy winter evenings, for a season. But I've just about had my fill of them now. I'm ready for it to be light later, to set out for the garden after work or, gasp, after dinner. Does it really stay light out that late in other seasons? Sometimes in the dark of winter that seems too improbable to be true. 

The weird thing is that I'm perfectly happy knowing tomorrow will be another snow day and full of childlike dread of the Wednesday rain that will wash all this away. I want it to stay. 

But spring . . . The tulip bulbs in the pots on the patio, which have already sent up green shoots, agree with me. It's almost time.