But I was wrong.
March 1st isn't the official first day of spring, but for me it has always been a day of inspiration for me.
I love and miss the midwest, but around February 25th I always began to question why I felt any sort of love for my little piece of the world.
The beginning of March is this deep sigh of relief...like "I made it."
I made it through another winter of snowboots and mittens.
I made it through another winter of icy roads.
I made it through another winter of scraping icicles off windshields.
I am a winter survivor.
Now on to the important things....like daffodils and tulips,
sweaters and sandals.
picnics and hammocks.
garden beds and warm rains.
early mornings and late nights.
The things that make it all worth it. This short-lived, tiny moment in time when everything else in unimportant.
Spring is to my soul what Mountain Dew is to a pre-pubescent boy with too much time to kill.