Is it just me or has this Northern winter been endlessly long and gray?
March is a sneaky bastard of a month. You can't really go out for a brisk one for fear an innocuous looking mud puddle is really an ice slick waiting to suck you under a parked car and down a storm drain. (Yes, I read "It" by Stephen King a million years ago, and like smart people everywhere, keep a close eye on storm drains.)
I have spring fever, cabin fever, and heck, maybe even Dengue fever for all I know--I swear that was blood AND tears coming out of my eyes when my husband informed me they're calling for a big snow in a few days...
I dream of summer. I cannot wait to get outdoors. I cannot wait to moan that I am too hot and humid, do compulsive body checks on myself and other for wood ticks, and fret about parasites found in shallow lake water.
In the meantime, I look at pictures of pretty wedding cakes to make me smile, think dirty thoughts to make me happy, and forget everything while writing in the world of my next book. It's a balmy October there!
Here's to springtime and getting your hands dirty!