On hope.

I read somewhere that this is the coldest winter we’ve had in decades; I certainly can’t recall another year, since 2015, that the snow stuck around for more than a day or two. It’s been relentless already, and there’s still so long to go.

But the other day, it was like 35 degrees and I felt like I was in heaven. Out in the yard in just a sweatshirt, holding the empty recycling bin. We have a couple of plastic flamingos in the garden that have been buried, and I noticed both of their heads finally poking out from beneath the snow. I pointed them out to my son through the window, trying to tell him: Spring will come.