Monday

The luster and radiance of the light in the past week has not gone by unnoticed by any of us living here, in the upper Midwest. This kind of luminance is something you see at higher elevations. I don't think of it as something coming at me across farmette lands in February. Yet here we are.

And now having tasted it, having felt the light's brilliance, I can no longer think of these days as belonging to winter. I have moved on. We are in pre-spring. Ed reminds me to tread carefully there: March can pack a mean punch for those who think spring has set in. But I tell him -- I'm not looking for jonquil buds in the ground. I'm merely enjoying the pungent aroma of wet earth.

Breakfast treats from Chicago still, with my pink guy. In anticipation of Valentine's Day? We can pretend!

We go for a walk in our county park. A bit slippery, a bit mushy, but really quite divine!

And then I pick up Snowdrop. 

She feels that spring-like air! It's tree time again!

In the farmhouse, she has the job of doing Valentine's Day cards. If she feels like it. It's not an obligation and there has been no mention of it at school. Still, last year most kids gave out cards and she wants to follow in that tradition. And if you chose to give cards, it has to be for everyone.

Her set of purchased cards has cats or dogs. Cats for the nicer kids! -- she tells me.

At first, she sticks an extra heart on the card of her current favorite boy in class. Then she quickly changes her mind. Let's put heart stickers on all the cards so his doesn't stand out! Oh, how I remember those days of elementary school love interests, or as Ed would aptly call them -- "like interests." It wasn't until I was thirteen years old that I was brave enough to openly acknowledge to my "like interest" that he was in any way special. From a safe distance. I was leaving the school and would likely never see him again.

In the evening, I drop her off and pause again to admire the setting sun. Beautiful February vignettes, left and right. February snapshots that properly belong in March. Are we really done with winter? Something tells me the snows and Arctic blasts are going to have the last laugh!