There is something sincerely magical about crossing the threshold into Spring. I suddenly find a new bounce in my step, an extra twirl in my skirt. The scent of the air is somehow better, and the birds chirp merrily as I make my way towards the end of the semester. And for whatever reason, that extra bit of sun shines a new perspective on things, reminding me of the many things I have to be grateful for.
There’s always that moment in the dead of winter where you start to see forward to Spring. Yet, there’s no actual benchmark for it. No physical moment you can point to. Slippers are very much a part of the daily routine, you still wake up to frost lining the windows, and coffee is as much a warming device as it is a caffeination mechanism. And yet it happens every year. You can feel the stirrings of a new season making its way up through frozen ground, pushing her arms upward, whispering that Spring will be here soon.