For the last few days I’ve been craving fresh air. Part of it has to do with airing out the house. We’ve been doing a lot of cutting and sanding of wood and drywall lately. No matter how much we clean there seems to be a fine dust over everything. Also, my new desk is giving off all kinds of nasty chemicals from the wood. So I’ve been opening windows and trying to air everything out and being very unsatisfied with the results.
But today is an entirely different matter. Today it is 70 degrees out. In March. That’s not right but I’m loving it. I have everything I can open in the house open to the fresh air. I find myself taking huge deep breaths to suck in the clean air when I’m outside. It can’t just be the warmth. I was in Texas last week but this is a different air. This is air that just feels right. It is “my air.” It is a celebration of place.
When I got home from grocery shopping I threw the milk and the one frozen thing I bought into the refrigerator and headed outside in my bare feet to soak up the day. The sedum is starting to grow in my garden. I also have crocuses. They weren’t there yesterday.
I took a book outside to lay face down on the warm grass and relax. I know this is temporary. The forecast is for snow this weekend. The ground in the shadow of the house is still cold and wet. That’s all the more reason to cherish the time spent cuddling with a sun-warmed cat while feeling the breeze in your hair.