There are days in early spring that give you hope. There is a scent of earth and sea on the wind and the grass shows a hint of green. The air is cool but with a promise of warmth and the sun feels warm through windows as days lengthen.
Instead of icy rain and snow, precipitation seems softer, less driving, coaxing life from the ground and from my soul.
But here, in a short season land, it takes time for promises to turn to truth, so I wait and dream of sweaters tucked into deep closets, boots banished to the basement and open windows.
A little sketch of sandals spurs this dream on and let me dream of hot days.
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