Is it the sunshine? The tantalizingly opened doors of the library?

I don't think I realize how heavy winter is until it lifts. Now that the sun is really warm for the first time in months, there's something singing inside of me that can't quite escape... All of my words cracked open like eggshells and their contents are oozing all over everything, golden and raw and ineffable.

AHHHH.

It's 65 degrees in Minnesota and I want to run far far away, out past the windmill. I would run and run until I couldn't run anymore, and then I would collapse into the open arms of early spring, laughing.

Five more pages.
Then Oregon.
Then contemplation of adventures to come.
Then crocuses.
Then Spring.