I pulled up the sun was as bright as can be. What should I wear? Hmm, let me think about this. I transferred most of my winter clothes to my cedar closet in hopes that I did not need them. After all, spring starts tomorrow and it looked like spring outside. The birds were fluttering around. There goes the robin redbreast. That is a good sign.
“Spring starts tomorrow,” the meteorologist chimed in but his weather map showed a different picture, not-quite-spring-weather. I grabbed a light coat, no gloves, no hat, and rushed out the door.
It looked like spring but the chill told me it was still winter.
By the time I got to the physical therapy center, my hands were cold. Everyone inside was talking about the weather. The PT aide who just came back from Florida told me the weather was 85 degrees there, a spring-like winter. Our 40-degree temperature felt really cold to her (and me too).
I gratefully received my heat treatment and went off to yoga where I know the room would be warm.
By the time I returned to the physical therapy room, it looked like spring outside but it still was winter.
Oh well.
Tomorrow is spring so let's see what that will bring.
For now, I go to sleep thinking of Joyce Kilmer's poem, Spring, that speaks of the joy of the season.
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings,
The happy earth looks at the sky
And sings.
“Spring starts tomorrow,” the meteorologist chimed in but his weather map showed a different picture, not-quite-spring-weather. I grabbed a light coat, no gloves, no hat, and rushed out the door.
It looked like spring but the chill told me it was still winter.
By the time I got to the physical therapy center, my hands were cold. Everyone inside was talking about the weather. The PT aide who just came back from Florida told me the weather was 85 degrees there, a spring-like winter. Our 40-degree temperature felt really cold to her (and me too).
I gratefully received my heat treatment and went off to yoga where I know the room would be warm.
By the time I returned to the physical therapy room, it looked like spring outside but it still was winter.
Oh well.
Tomorrow is spring so let's see what that will bring.
For now, I go to sleep thinking of Joyce Kilmer's poem, Spring, that speaks of the joy of the season.
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings,
The happy earth looks at the sky
And sings.
Day 19 of 31 days of writing
March Slice of Life Story Challenge
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