
I just wrote an entire blog about spring coming and coming soon. It was full of redbud and dogwood and bare feet and azaleas and open doors and warm breezes and how it got to 78 degrees here today.
Seventy-eight, y'all.
Oh. Heaven.
It was about the almost-indecent swelling of the Japanese Magnolia blossoms and the hundreds of birds flocking around the feeder and that soon the browns and grays of winter will be replaced with all the colors of new-born green the eye can take in.
It was good.
And then I lost it. I did it. Technical dumbfoolery on my part.
But hell, I think I'll have lots of time to write about the glory of spring when it is actually spring.
What I would like to say, though, is that for a lot of us North Floridians, nothing could make us happier than to have actual proof that spring and all that it promises is surely coming. We're not the hardiest bunch of folks here when it comes to winter. Or, some of us aren't, anyway. We couldn't tolerate a winter in Alaska or perhaps even in North Georgia and that is why we live here, my friends.
Right here where on February 4th, 2008, we thawed out, took off our coats and sweaters and socks and opened up the house.
Some of us had bare toes and happy hearts.
Okay. At least I did. And it's been glorious.