It's another frigid Tuesday morning in the Midwest and I am aching for spring. I am not going walking in weather that boasts negative digits. No sir.
Sigh. Spring. Trees and flowers and blue skies and stuff. And dirt. I even like dirt in the spring, bugs and all.
You know, I used to play in the dirt. Now, bear in mind that this is the chick who comes jumping right out of her skin at the merest sight of bugs, but apparently, this was not always the case. When I was little, I used to dig around in the dirt and turn over rocks and actively seek out insects to investigate. I would collect earthworms and let an ant or two crawl around on my hand... on purpose. Insanity.
I suppose a lot of that little girl is still around. I'm still a nature freak, still don't feel right or complete if too long a time goes by without a walk on the trails or visit to the gardens. But am I fearlessly inquisitive anymore? Do I ever just disregard the negatives and play like nothing could ever go wrong? In truth, probably not. I should work on that. Maybe, when the spring gets here, I'll go worm collecting. Or maybe fishing... or maybe I'll just go back to the trails and try not to scream when I see a centipede. It's the small things.
Gosh, it's cold out there. Stay warm, people.
Over and out,