Remembering its February

In my mind, February in Seattle is a mixture of cold, clear, crisp days and mild, rainy ones.  This February has been an anomaly with a running trend of record high temperatures and warm sunshine us Seattleites typically have to remind ourselves exists.  I have been pulling clothes out of my warm weather wardrobe, passing the sweet smells of magnolia and cherry blossoms on my morning run, and watching tulips and other spring treasures pop up through the dirt like its late March.

And, then this morning as I was defrosting my windshield and worrying about our spring bulbs getting frost bite, I remember that it is only late February.  Sigh.  How spoiled we have been this winter.  The weather report for the next week reads cool, crisp, and clear.  These are my favorite days this time of year.  I usually love this weather.

But, these glimmers of spring and summer make me look forward to longer daylight hours and warmer weather.  No more running in the dark at 6am.  No more driving home in the dark at the end of the day.  There is something about the inherent hope that exists in light.  It was designed this way.

Hope was designed for light.  Or maybe, light was designed for hope.  Either way, these bright days remind me of what is to come; longer days, warmer nights, barbecues, hanging out on the porch with iced tea, etc.  You know, the essentials of summer.

Maybe it is because this winter tested us on so many levels that I am so atypically anxious to leave it behind.  I am ready for the newness associated with spring.  The fresh starts.  The changes.  The new chapters.

But, possibly it is the darkness – the winters of sorts – that make us stronger and prepare our hearts for these new chapters, changes, and fresh starts.  Its the cliche saying, “you can’t know light without darkness ,” in action.

I know that I am hopeful about what the spring and summer will have in store and faith that, for me, this winter chapter is drawing to a close and has prepared me well for the brighter days ahead – despite the morning frost on my windshield.

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