this is a picture of my (not so cute) feet. barefoot. standing on my driveway. picture taken today. go ahead, check the date. it's march 14th. march, not may. march!
i live in northeastern indiana. usually, in march, we're all still dreaming of spring. and yet, this year, we've had just over thirty total inches of snow. typical snow by now is closer to fifty inches. and clothing choices at this time of year are usually something warmer than rolled jeans. shoes are typically traded for boots this time of year.
the windows of the entire house are open. and it. smells. like. spring.
one of my favorite memories growing up is, surprise, napping in the summer. but there was something so comforting about napping in summer. growing up, my grandparents had a haul-behind trailer at a campground on crooked lake. they took care of all the landscaping and maintenance for the park, so they basically parked their camper and stayed for free. my dad worked third shift at a factory the entire time i was growing up. but he would save all his vacation for the summer time, and instead of his typical sunday-night through thursday-night, he would take every thursday night off during the summer. this meant that on thursday afternoons, we'd load up in the blazer and head up to the lake and stay until sunday morning. the blazer didn't have air conditioning, that i remember, so Sis and i would sweat in the back seat, waiting anxiously to see the water tower in ashley, indiana, that was painted like a smiley face. that water tower meant there were only fifteen more agonizing minutes to wait until we pulled into the campground.
we would swim and fish and lay on the piers and cook hotdogs over the fire and play cards with grandma until the wee hours of the evenings. and during the day, usually after lunch, we would lay on grandma's foldout couch (you know, the kind that is like a futon that was standard issue in those campers) and nap, with the windows open and the curtains blowing. i remember so vividly hearing the birds chirping, the bullfrogs creaking, the boats on the lake. and as i sit here writing this, with the windows open, i hear the sounds of the outdoors and i go back to those days. i can almost smell the lake, the fire.
such a bittersweet thing...wishing like crazy that i could relive that, thankful that i had that, and hoping against hope that we aren't blanketed with snow any time soon.