My hubby and I were out and about this afternoon, doing chores around the farm. We were delighted to see the first signs of spring: the crocuses, wild onions, and daffodils are all beginning to break through the soil and bloom. Until we moved here, I had never experienced such obvious signs of the seasons. For me, fall meant there was a nip in the air; winter was a handful of days that I found to be bitter cold (usually in the 50s and 60s); spring meant I could break out the flip flops; and summer seemed to last 10 months. Don't get me wrong; I still detest cold weather, but it is kind of refreshing to see nature burst forth with life in the springtime.
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