riposte

Funny how when the weather was cold, I looked to the inside for guidance and comfort in my days.
Now we're getting Indian Summer days, and I'm leading our rambunctious stomps and derring-do's.
I feel so different than I did a week ago.
The furnace is turned off, the windows and doors are open again, and I skip warm coffee altogether and go straight for a glass of iced tea in the mornings.
I don't think it's just the warm air in itself - it feels like my cycle is in keeping with nature's, and that all I can do is go.
Hurry. Into the sunshine.
Don't stop to sit to write. Don't ponder too much - just go.
It's like Nature has grabbed me by the hand, pulling, and pleading "Will you come on already?!"

Maybe I should be thinking (until the storm comes) My Love Affair With Summer.
Fresh linens from the line, anyone?