Search for Spring: Step 7

Even more signs of Spring:

7. Desperately wanting to be outside.

Contemplating the hypothetical virtues of camping.

Eager to tear open the shutters and throw up the sash.

Fighting back the urge to skip lightly.

Finding myself squelching through mud.

Spring is a sloppy exuberance.

Search for Spring: Step 6

Still looking:

6. Having my soul crashed because it snowed again.

Spring, you are a merciless flirt.

For shame.

Search for Spring: Step 5

Still looking:

5. The return of cling. The return of transparence. The return of full disclosure.

Hello stretch jersey, hello cotton draping, hello knee length skirts.

Oh bulky, cozy sweater, I will miss you my old friend.

Winter is an enabler. Spring peals it all away.

(Glanz Dress, Anthropologie)

Search for Spring: Step 4

Still looking for Spring:

4. I reintroduce myself to my toenails.

I think it is safe to say, it was an emotional moment for all of us.

Search for Spring: Step 3

In my search for signs of Spring:

3. It suddenly dawns on me. Uggs are truly the ugliest boots imaginable. I cannot believe I have worn them for so long.

I put on shoes without the benefit of a think interior pelt and think to myself,

wow my feet are so tiny.

Search for Spring: Step Two

The search for signs of Spring continues:

2. Guilt.

Once again I failed to plan ahead. Failed to think it through. Failed to brave the late Fall so that I may rejoice in the early Spring.

And my neighbor did.

She has Crocuses and I do not. She will have Tulips, and Hyacinths, and everything else quite wonderful and perfect and beautiful, and I will not.

She over-achieves. I over-believe. I buy my spring flowers and shove their stubborn steams into the still frozen ground.

Spring has outed my procrastination.

My search for Spring: A 12 Step Program

How do I know thee Spring, let me count the ways.

1. My daughter will no longer wear her winter coat. And yes it is still 30 degrees outside. And yes it is still cold. And yes there still is snow on the ground.

But you have come March. And, Snow Coat, we can no longer speak your name.

Adieu.