S p r i n g.

Spring wanted to come. I could positively feel it.

In the way the blue sky was becoming a little less crisp by the day, the way the sun hit the branches of the still-naked trees, turning everything golden if I could catch it just right.

The way the days seemed a bit longer, and I would look at the clock surprised that 5:30 had come so soon and the sun was still awake.

In some places you could even see the fresh new shoots of grass eagerly sticking their heads above the packed earth.  Winter was not quite gone, and these brave fellows would probably get their heads frozen again before the true warmth set in - but their courage was commendable nonetheless.

Their sisters, the buds on the small and sturdy pear trees, were not to be outdone; they showed equal bravery in proving their dormant life still existed by baring their green fuzzy shells amongst the dead brown leaves still clinging to the branches.  They too might be hit with an unfortunate freeze.  Nevertheless, the groundhog did tell us that winter would be over soon.

And I could not wait.