|photo by Karen Arnold|
My body ached for spring this morning as I dashed outside in sub-zero temperatures once again to start the van for the trek to school.
The ache was familiar, but this time, new sensations came with it — sensations of spring in the Adirondacks, where I grew up.
They were so welcome, those memories, and they awakened in me hope for warmer days to come.
I’d like to share that hope with you:
The dance of extreme temperatures brushing against my skin as warm air swoops over the icy remains of snow, lifting the cooler air and swirling with it.
Building dams with pebbles and stones in the road-side creeks formed by run-off from the banked snow.
T-shirts and sleds.
Car horns beeping at my young frame as I squat in the road for better access to those temporary creeks.
Racing twigs in the miniature white-water rapids, eliciting more beeps as I run along the road, following them on their journeys.
Wet, squishy moss.
The joy of walking from home through downtown, touching only pavement with my shoes.
Kicking up dust on pavement fringed by receding snow.