Last week I was wallowing in the never-ending grayness but now it's mid-March and they tell me it's already spring break and there is SUNSHINE after 6pm.

Yesterday I had a hankerin' for some ice cream, so I grabbed the closest sister (sisters are the best forever and ever amen), jumped in the Jeep, and drove through the sunshine that smelled of spring. The wind blew strands of hair into my ice cream and rocky road dripped down my arm and they were playing all the good country songs on the radio and it was a heck of a good moment.

Spring is our best season. First there is March, warm enough for the first inkling of a tan and warm enough to watch the green push towards the surface until the wind and rain blows us back inside. Then April, a bit like March, but a touch warmer with a little less bluster and green in abundance. And May! Oh, May is a sweet, sweet month. And between this all there is sweet-tea-drinking, new freckles every day, fruit in abundance, country music always pouring out of the radio, bike rides, a note of hope in the long golden evenings.

I'm happy to just be living. The anxiety still remains more than I'd like to admit, but I try not to take things too seriously these days. I make plans, keep myself busy, buy myself more gray sweaters. I bought another one today. ANOTHER ONE. Frankly, I'm a bit apprehensive to go into my closet and tally the number of gray sweaters I own. But today's sweater was only $2.50? And had pockets? I figured to heck with it and added it to the pile that already contained two dresses, a t-shirt, and a skirt. Ugh, I love thrifting. It's gotten to the point where I can't bring myself to shop at commercial stores anymore.

The other day I locked myself out of the car for the first time ever - I'd spent my usual ten minutes rummaging in my purse for my keys and around the eleventh minute I saw the keys lying on the driver's seat. My parents were forty-five minutes away and the Triple-A info was safely in nestled the glove compartment of my locked car. BUT! All was well, because I managed to break into my own car. I suppose that's a bit disconcerting, that I, a breaking-into-cars-novice, managed to break into a car so easily...but I've never been more grateful for a window that never stays completely shut.

Life is good. I don't say that lightly. Perfect and anxiety-free it is not. But good it is.

yesterday was warm (!!!) and sunny (!!!) and I couldn't resist the harsh light and the blues of m's outfit (that girl is a freakin' model, I swear).

this is the kind of work that feels very very right.

*title from the only place by best coast

When I was little, five or six maybe, my dad had a note hanging over his desk that read, "These are the good old days." He always had flutters of paper filled with notes and quotes stuck everywhere around his workspace (like father like daughter), but that's the one that's invited itself to loop through my mind like a poem.

I wonder when today - the snowy coziness and pulled pork on warm sourdough buns and dozing on the couch to the sound of pigeon coos and little girls' puffy snow-suited shrieking bodies and the crackle of the fire and baking brownies in a quiet winter-lit kitchen - will be coated with the haze of time past and I'll long for that good old day...

I was asked to give a short presentation about photography in art class yesterday. I did. It wasn't very eloquent.

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Sick for most of last week. Went to work with a 102 degree fever. The things we do.

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I've hardly been creative this month. Reading The Artist's Way. I wonder.

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Took my sister to ballet on Saturday morning. Survived the perky-ponytail-and-leggings crowd at Whole Foods for pink lady apples. They were worth it.

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I started knitting a scarf. Forest green, thick and chunky. It'll probably be too warm to wear it once it's finished.

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My big sister is here. I'm used to being the oldest. Now I get to be a little sister for six weeks.

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I hate the cluttered winter monotony. Spring shouldn't be long now. Hopefully.