Yesterday morning I took a walk in the park and found spring. There were definite signs of spring, mostly green. New grass poked through the detritus of winter. On a dead tree, green moss flourished. Even the cool air felt like the cool of spring promising warmth to come, rather than the relative warmth of winter with the underlying cold edge to it that says, “Not yet.” Somehow the same temperature in spring feels different from that of winter.
