I don’t like to wish my life away, but I wish for Spring. I wish for warm air as I open my back door and step into a new morning. I wish for a scent of promise and optimism in the morning breeze as I hang out my laundry, a wish for that feeling of contentment as the sun arcs the sky like a splendid white gold ball. I wish to sit outside on my bench with a cup of tea and a magazine and close my eyes to feel that warmth on my face, and to open my eyes to a blue, cloudless sky.
I long for days when colourful flowers open their tender buds and share their colourful beauty, and I wish for the days that are cerulean blue and forever posted in my memory like hazy snapshots that makes me feel deeply happy whenever I remember them.
I look around my little home, my tiny, crochet strewn home and I feel grateful for it’s warmth and cosy interior on this cold Winter day; the sky is the colour of dirty dishwater and even the skeletal trees that stand like sentinels on the riverbank seem sullen and miserable. I buy a bunch of Spring flowers and they instantly cheer me, remind me that Spring is just a whisper away, that already we are flying into February at the speed of sound and the first month of our new year is almost over.
We come across a gaggle of geese on one of our jaunts, their bright orange feet a cheery contrast to their snow white bodies and the hard white frosty ground.
There are lots of things to cherish and enjoy in the Winter…but oh, I wish for Spring.