I’ve been counting down to spring quite aggressively since New York’s bitter cold experience. The sun is staying out longer and temperatures seem to be rising here and there. I’ve never been this excited to wear one less pair of socks. Yet, when I visited the park two days ago, I couldn’t help but wish for some more snow days. A wish, I’m certain I will regret soon. In fact, when it snowed the very next day I was a little too excited. I opened all the blinds in my house and allowed myself to be surrounded with the fluffy, bright matter that covered all the streets and cars outside, commenting quite too often about what “beautiful weather” we were having that day. It must have been only kindness that forced my family and neighbors to smile in response while they shoveled piles of unwanted snow off their driveway. 
My sentiments at the park were no different. I was taken aback by the beauty of the snow and the frozen lake beneath it, admiring the birds that basked in both the sunlight and the lake, and remembering that the lake once looked like this and was and still is beautiful. 
I am still hoping for spring, just not as impatiently.
