I think I'm about thirty years too young to pack up and move to Florida for the winter, but I'm thisclose to doing it anyway. (I haven't shared these plans with CJ yet.)
The other day, I was thinking about how I've always viewed March 1st as a big turning point in the year. It could still be snowy and cold, but in my mind, it's spring. When I was younger, as soon as March rolled around, I'd beg my parents to let me wear shorts to school. Didn't matter if it was fifty-five degrees out or if there were still melting piles of snow -- it was shorts weather.
I've long since upgraded to cute skirts and knee-length shorts, but my feelings on March haven't changed. I'm bringing my flip flops to the front of the closet and thinking about making the trip to the beauty supply store to pick out this year's nail polish color.
I've heard people say that we must have winter so we can fully enjoy spring and summer. The way this winter is progressing, I'm beginning to think that God just wants me to be extra thankful this year.
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