Yesterday, snow was still on my car. Still.
This is a very big deal here in Alabama where all of my life the jonquils have bloomed for my early February birthday. At the very least, those green shoots of daffodils should be a foot tall with the 'bump' of flower head making its way up the stalk. But they are still stumpy, afraid to take the risk. Yesterday morning when I went out to start my car and drive to work, my windshield was still covered by a solid sheet of ice with 1/2 inch of snow dusted on top. The yards and fields look 'beat down' and gray.
Then late yesterday I got a hurried email from my husband. "Let's spend the night at the camp so I can be on the river by dawn."
Easy for him to say.
I made dinner, packed up food for the cold empty camp that has seen no human residents for months, packed an extra blanket for the dog. When we arrived, our words made a frozen fog in the air. We turned on all the heat full blast, considered making a roaring fire, plugged in the fuses for the pump, and held our breath. We had water. Nothing was frozen. But the heat inside the chilled rooms was slow coming. We slept under two down comforters in our pajamas, our fleece, and our socks.
This morning the floor was still icy and the shower was warm only if your body didn't come into contact with the tiles. A steamy mug was welcome more as something warm to hold rather than to drink.
But the bright sun was up early, and my husband was like a kid at Disney World as he packed his gear and rubbed his face with sunscreen.
By tomorrow the high should approach the sixties for the first time in quite a while.
Maybe there was a reason the fat sliver of moon last night sported a great big grin. Maybe spring is on its way after all.