“Good morning, beautiful children,” I called up the stairs. A pair of grunts came in reply.

“It’s spring,” I added. Silence.

Yesterday I walked into the newsroom for a meeting and announced, “12 more hours of winter!” My boss asked if I was sure. Silly man. “1:48 a.m.,” I told him. He argued that as long as there’s snow on the ground it won’t seem like spring, and that it was all in my head. “I’m all in my head anyway,” I replied.

When we turned down the covers at 11:39 p.m., I told my husband, “Two hours and nine minutes until spring.” I don’t think he was terribly impressed either, although he does have weekend fishing plans.

It still is dark out, with no signs of life except a garbage truck and the dogs taking their morning breaks. Don’t care, don’t care. I think I’ll go to one of the neighborhood greenhouses this afternoon to celebrate.

Just looking, not buying. Not ready to kill anything yet.

This post originally appeared on ourMidland.com, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.

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