For how much I tend to talk about loving fall, I think my real love is spring.
This morning I left my house in a bright dress and flats and a cardigan I was almost certain I would throw in my bag on the way home. And no tights, which makes me incredibly happy because I hate them.
I took a walk during my lunch break over to the Watergate complex to pick up my library card and felt the sun on my face and a light breeze. It was glorious.
Spring is the calm after the storm. The reward for battling through the bitter winter and the preface to a brutal summer. And, particularly where I live, it always seems incredibly short. Long enough to feel like a transition, but short enough that you must be careful to savor it, which is exactly what I intend to do.
I took a walk during my lunch break over to the Watergate complex to pick up my library card and felt the sun on my face and a light breeze. It was glorious.
Spring is the calm after the storm. The reward for battling through the bitter winter and the preface to a brutal summer. And, particularly where I live, it always seems incredibly short. Long enough to feel like a transition, but short enough that you must be careful to savor it, which is exactly what I intend to do.
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