The dog is splayed on the floor beside me, breathing ever so deeply as he takes in the wonderfulness (yes, wonderfulness) that is spring air. I'd like to think he's breathing so deeply in an attempt to take in as much of the perfect air he can, rather then accepting the fact that frequent dog walks weren't as frequent this cold winter. Back to thinking about the air. And the spring. We're experiencing the freshest spring air, right at the beginning of spring when snow is still intact in cracks of damp ground and the birds are still navigating their way to their favorite Midwest nests. The only air that's better is circulating around glaciers, I'd like to imagine, or making leaves dance about like they do on fall evenings after carving pumpkins.
I'm ready for new things. For new jobs. For new adventures. I always seem to be seeking some sort of adventure. And to remember old hobbies. I have a lot of those.
Nothing is better than this spring air and the way I seem to float above melting sidewalks.
1 comment:
I miss Michigan in the spring. I miss Emily Hallman in the spring.
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