Now I know that all my friends and relatives living in the frozen north have absolutely no sympathy for me here in Florida. But I have to say our winter has been grueling. We're simply not equipped for temperatures under about 50 degrees.
We're used to cloudless blue skies, warm ocean breezes and chirping song birds. None of those things are around when the threat of snow is imminent this far south. We retreat inside and huddle under every available blanket we could dig out of the attic.
I've forgotten what it felt like to read the morning paper on my back porch with Ginger sitting by my side, or to watch the ducks swimming in the pond and listen to the birds sing. This is spring. All the birds who escaped the frozen north are here. And they're singing from morning until night. I've missed the calming sound of their constant chorus.
Aside from having breakfast on the porch, there is something else I've missed. During the bitter cold winter I practically lived in the same pair of cozy warm sweatpants. Sometimes I even slept in them so I could get out of bed in the morning and still be toasty warm. Today with the temperature stretching toward 80, I tossed them in the laundry basket and went searching in a corner of my closet I hadn't visited in quite some time. All of my shorts, undisturbed, were anxiously waiting for a trip out into the world again. Touching them all, I finally selected a soft and well worn pair and slipped it on.
Wearing my new garb, I grabbed my laptop and headed out to the back porch. I propped my pale white legs up on the loveseat and started writing. The birds are chirping, the ducks are swimming and Ginger is cuddled up by my side. Thank God, it's finally spring.
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