Here Comes the Sun
I have mild self-diagnosed Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's hardly debilitating, but I'm feeling it. I'm really feeling it.
Don't get me wrong -- winter is my favorite season. I adore snowy days, and hot chocolate and sweaters. But, I've really come to love the South Jersey version of spring. Winter fades slowly where I grew up and where I went to college. Snow and slush and endless, endless mud and rain hang on for weeks. I'd rarely enjoyed Easter of my April birthday, weather-wise, at least until I moved to South Jersey.
Here, generally speaking, winter ends and spring begins. The days lengthen and it's warm enough on the commute home to put the windows down or open the sunroof. Trees bloom and bulbs sprout up. My substantially-wooded yard is pleasantly floral in the spring. I've planted daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths and tulips. My neighbors have forsythia, dogwoods, magnolias. Usually by Emily's March 24th birthday, we're well along the spring-bulb-path-of-hope-springs-eternal.
But this year, it's all terribly late coming. And it's been terribly wet and cold going. And I'm really feeling it.
(granted, the stress of work observations, converting to a new form of state standardized testing, fixing up a house to sell, slogging through the process of replacing/repairing large hunks of our septic system, packing (and more packing) are seriously not helping my mood, stress levels, energy)
Here's to a pleasant, sunny spring ... quick and simple repairs and a simple move. Do I get to have all of that all put together?