I really do like this time of year, when the fields are flooding and muddy from the melting ice that you can still find in the north-facing gutters and the sun shines enough to make the chocolates in your car squishy. It feels almost warm enough to wear a tank top with heavy boots, but take a sweater for when the sun drops behind a cloud and a heavier jacket for night, when the temerature still falls below freezing. It doesn't look like spring yet and we still might get one more good snow, but this time stolen from Old Man Winter is precious and the smell of good, wet earth takes me back to the mountains.
I want to go home.