It’s one of those weekends. You know the ones, the weather isn’t playing ball, you can’t wait to wear your summer clothes and spend time in the sun, but it’s still too cold. Instead you spend the weekend discovering things in the house to repair, cooking, laundry, and reflecting on life.
I do like all the seasons, for different reasons, but I like spring (when it eventually happens) because it is the season of hope. As the days get longer and lighter and brighter, the garden changes with new leaves and buds, the birds start singing, there is hope in the air. Even if they are not, things seem possible.