I can hardly believe the cold and windy walk to my classroom. My hair swirls up like a tornado on top my head, and I barrel on, head down like a charging bull, to fight the wind.
And now? Icy rain. My black fleece collects tiny hailstones as I shake my head free of them.
My hands, normally gloved, now crack in the cold drizzle.
Today was supposed to be the day I take pictures of my weeping cherry against the warm blue sky. What happened to spring? What happened to my daffodils, my cheerful neighborhood walks in t-shirts, my grilling out, and my wide open windows?
I arrive back home to a sealed house my husband thankfully heated. All I want is hot oatmeal to warm me, so I fix a batch and sit back. I’m wrapped in a warm sweater. I find I’m relaxing. I find it’s cozy. I might even light a winter candle.
And I realize the gift of one last cozy day of winter. I’ll bake the chicken inside. And besides, my weeping cherry looks even better against a frosty gray sky.
