Is it Spring??

Today was one of those days.

You know.

The days in February, when you are just starting to think that winter is never going to end and you're never going to warm up and you can't remember what it feels like to wear less than 3 layers of clothes, and then out of nowhere it's warm enough to wear a light jacket without the fear of frostbite and hypothermia. It's warm enough to go out and instead of rushing through the biting cold, it's okay to stop and enjoy the blue sky dotted with clouds, the slightly too chilly breeze, the warm moments in the sun, and the light sent of spring on its way.

So in honor of those days in February like today, I thought I would post a Ted Kooser poem that fits quite well. I know its not quite late February yet but it's getting close.

Late February
Ted Kooser

The first warm day,
and by mid-afternoon
the snow is no more
than a washing
strewn over the yards,
the bedding rolled in knots
and leaking water,
the white shirts lying
under the evergreens.
Through the heaviest drifts
rise autumn’s fallen
bicycles, small carnivals
of paint and chrome,
the Octopus
and Tilt-A-Whirl
beginning to turn
in the sun. Now children,
stiffened by winter
and dressed, somehow,
like old men, mutter
and bend to the work
of building dams.
But such a spring is brief;
by five o’clock
the chill of sundown,
darkness, the blue TVs
flashing like storms
in the picture windows,
the yards gone gray,
the wet dogs barking
at nothing. Far off
across the cornfields
staked for streets and sewers,
the body of a farmer
missing since fall
will show up
in his garden tomorrow,
as unexpected
as a tulip.