The light is changing. Days are getting longer now. Morning awakenings feel groggy and hopeful. I hear the chirping of birds. Sunlight streams through the crack in the curtains. Pulling them back reveals pockets of snow on the hill below, snow tucked in shadows and low places, but the sun is doing her work.
Soon will come the crocus, daffodil, and asparagus; all of those early-spring flavors that make us feel like airing out indoor places. Soon, a jacket will suffice when going for a walk in the park. Soon, the smell of the damp soil will be released from its frozen prison.
And soon, I will be released from my winter routine of going to a gym and laboring on a machine that simulates walking, running, biking, moving. (I prefer the one like “climbing.”) Is it any wonder that gymnasiums originated in frigid Russia? But soon I will be released from my Siberian prison, and the time change will allow me evening hours of light, sunset, and dusk in which to play.
This time of year I always get restless for the warmth of the sun on my bare skin, and release from hibernation. It’s a hopeful kind of restless, because the change is certain.