There's no doubt I have the fever... Either the cabin variety or simple spring fever. In either case, I have found myself delirious, throwing open windows because the high surpassed 45 degrees. This was the same temperature that signaled winter only 3 months ago. When it occurs in February, though, it feels so much warmer.
One of the symptoms of spring fever is the urge to clean away the winter grime. My windows would beg to be windexed if only they could talk. Febreeze no longer does the job fresh spring air can do on well used pillows and cushions. The biweekly baths our Masha Bear received in the warm months is long overdue, although she is smugly enjoying the winter ban on doggy baths.
Looking out at the deck, now only partially covered with snow, the grill beckons, and I nearly smack my lips at the thought of firing her up to BBQ for the first time. I am also seriously considering cultivating a new garden patch in the back yard; small enough to handle, but large enough to produce enough veggies to actually eat. On the farm where I grew up, we had a well fertilized garden from the manure we had to dump some place. The fringe benefits were delicious.
Most importantly, I am craving a long walk on the country roads I know so well, where I "write" as I walk, and become completely engrossed with my thoughts. There's a book I need to finish writing, so it's time to hit the pavement to find new ideas, and the sanity I seem to lose each winter. The calendar says spring comes next month. My "fever" has it arriving about 3 PM tomorrow. I plan to ignore the forecast for snow next Tuesday, and welcome an early spring.
A warm country hug to all,
Happy Birthday Anina