When I woke up this morning, for the briefest of moments I thought it might be summer. I had slept in a short-sleeved shirt rather than the winter usual of long-sleeves or fleece, and I felt overly warm under the covers. Light was pouring in the window, and I could hear birds chirping outside. Before I was fully awake I found myself imagining going for a run outside before it got too warm, and then going for a walk in the sun with our friend Holly, perhaps sipping an iced tea and walking to the library.
Alas, it is not summer, and nowhere near it for us New England folks. I have many more months of dreary grey snow on the sides of the streets to look forward to, and biting cold winds and chafed hands, nose, and ears. And Holly has moved to Spokane, Washington which is altogether too far away from Beverly, Massachusetts.
I thought, fleetingly, that it would be a cool fruit smoothie morning, but it is an oatmeal morning, after all.
I can't wait for June.