Dear spring, please stick around until the end of May. I heart you.
It’s supposed to be around 70 degrees in Asheville today. In February. And I LOVE it. My boss and I went on a walk at lunchtime and it was pretty fabulous. We vowed to make the walk a weekly thing. All that said, it’s *only* going to be in the 60s this weekend, and the temperatures will drop back to the 50s later next week.
A year ago, I was not loving the weather. I’m just so ready for spring this year. I want it to be a long spring, too. And pretty.
We have plans this weekend, and some of those plans don’t involve me, so I get to kick back on the back porch with a drink (lemonade, anyone?) and my latest Real Simple magazine. My idea of bliss, basically.
When the plans don’t involve me, we’ll be at Blue Mountain Pizza for dinner and an early show (Chad Mackey! acoustic! fun! And garlic knots!) and visiting with our friends tomorrow night. If my husband is lucky, I may work on cleaning the house this weekend, since we’re going to be hosting an Oscars party next weekend.
(the song “Winter Song” just came across my iPod playlist. Go away, winter.)
I know I can’t be the only person feeling this way. Some of my flowers are trying to come up. I’m thoroughly excited to see what I planted (and where) last fall. I bought several bags of bulbs and just went to town. And when I ran out of room, I planted the bulbs randomly throughout our yard. It’s either going to look really tacky or really gorgeous.
Until we can see the flowers in bloom, you’ll find me outside enjoying the weather. (Unless we get a freak snowstorm, in which case I’ll be back here cursing winter.)