The winds are howling outside and even though it's barely snowing, I'm already sick of winter. I want the promise of spring, of fresh buds on the trees, and rabbits cavorting on my back lawn. The allergies that come with the change in season aren't welcome, but it's a small price to pay for the renewal of life, of all things green and growing, and filled with joy and wonder.
But some things cannot be rushed and I suppose we shouldn't try...and yet I've already started the countdown. 69 Days Until Spring. ::burrows deeper into
writing rabbit hole::