If the weather network could be trusted, it was 14 degrees Celsius outside yesterday, that beautiful Wednesday in March. The sun was piercing through a cloudy canopy and as my husband was leaving for work, he asked if I'd open up the windows if it was warm enough. 14 C is cold in your house, but it's positively balmy out in the yard on a March afternoon.
I opened the bedroom window when my kids were both supposed to be napping. And a warm breeze blew in on my face. It smelled divine. It smelled warm. It smelled like placing your hand on the stone of the front porch and the chill of winter having dissipated and a hopeful heat having replaced it. It smelled like earthworms stretching and waking up. It smelled like noisy birds before your alarm clock. It smelled like grass and crocus' and tulips and iris'. Like sandy fingers in your gardening gloves, like un-jenga-ing your patio furniture from inside the shed and delicately arranging it near the barbecue. Like garlic sprouts. It smelled like an open sandbox.
~Miss Greenish Thumb~