1°C (33.8°F) We made it above freezing again. I’m starting to hear spring-time calls from the cardinals. Strange. This is supposed to be the coldest time of year for us, and tomorrow we’re supposed to hit 40. In a couple of weeks we’ll be past any real chance (hope?) of sub-zero weather.
You’d think I would be happy about the warm weather, or anxious about global warming, but I’m neither. Instead, I feel stuck in between. In between seasons – not winter, not spring. In between snug hibernation and prolific activity. In between worry and hope, death and new life. On the cusp – on the verge – on the brink.