There comes a time in every New England winter where I decide I’m done with winter and don’t care anymore if it’s 30 degrees out. I will Spring to arrive by not wearing my boots and forgoing my coat even if it’s needed. I hunt for signs of spring, piles of snow that seem just a little smaller, listen to birds that appeared overnight and the smell of possibility that seems to permeate the air.
Spring in New Hampshire is such a time of newness and beginnings. It reminds me of the blank page. And this idea of starting something new even if the snow hasn’t melted yet and the thermometer is still saying it’s coat weather. Sometimes you just have to pull the ideas out even if they are still hiding in bulky sweaters and snow boots.