Dreaming of Spring
Every year, come mid January, I begin dreaming of spring.
I imagine tulips dancing in gentle breezes,
irises raising their bearded faces to soak up the sun,
and bright, yellow daffodils bursting up and out of winter-weary soil like golden shouts of joy.
I also dream of tropical escapes.
And of harvesting vegetables,
of bike rides,
and of basking in warm, brilliant sunshine.
All of this dreaming and imagining will help me make it through the rest of the Midwestern winter: dull with its duo-toned landscapes,
rife with seemingly lifeless, leafless bushes and trees,
devoid of celebratory holidays other than the inconsequential Hallmark kind, and iced over with bone-chilling,
For me, dreaming is mental yoga; it’s meditative, strengthening, and restorative. It’s a means of interjecting hope, promise, and color into the long string of gray winter days.
Spring, however, as remote as it seems, is on it’s way. According to this official countdown to spring calculator: (Click HERE), it’s a mere 59 days, 10 hours and 6 minutes away.
That’s nothing a hot cup of coffee, a warm afghan, and a good imagination can’t handle!