I love waking up to a surprise snow. I’m a lover of winter, but I also love the seasons.
I long to ride my bike on the river paths, wind blowing through my hair under my helmet (safety first). I love to watch my hubby riding like a hot shot and envisioning him as a little boy. Truly, I can see it.
I love the breathlessness on a big hill, and the scary joyfulness of riding standing up as fast as I can back down it. I love the scents of the river, the sound of flapping wings of the Great Blue Heron that lives year round at the bend of the river, and how my hubby stops at road crossings to make sure I get through them because he’s sure one day I’m going to get hit by a car.
I love the dust and crunch of limestone and the hot breeze cooling my damp skin on hot summer evenings.
Today, I dream of all these things even as fluffy snow lazily falls from a gray sky. With this snow, can Spring be far behind?