just being able to hang outside at all. I don't see any flowers in the meadows yet, nor are the robins flocking to my back lawn. (I don't see the lawn yet, either.)
But there's a warmth underneath that chill out there.
I'm not clenching as I open the back door. Little rivers pool up along the driveway and cascade down the hill.
Evidence of this winter's damage is everywhere. Sunken portions of blacktop, gaping cracks along the driveway, and today, I looked up and saw the brown metal strip, the flashing, along the chimney is gone and parts of the gutter look loose. Inside walls, once puffed out and bulging with water, have split and in some cases have retracted back in leaving sagging wrinkles of deep beige paint, which was, the repair from three years ago.
But there is a warmth underneath the chill out there.
Snow mountains ebb, and in another week or so, spring's warmth will rise up from the chill.
The crocuses never had their chance, but the daffodils and tulips and magnolias will dot the landscape and give us the absolute thrill of our lives, because we sure have earned it this year!