This has been the coldest winter since I moved to North Carolina almost 5 years ago (and when did that happen? All that time passing by?). Every winter I whine like a child about the cold. This year after a grocery-shopping trip in 26-degree weather I told Jason I was moving back to California with or without him. I never did get the winter blues (or really understand what they even where) before moving to a place that looks so pretty in the fall to so ugly and dead in the winter. When Mr. Punxsutawney Phil told us that we would have an early spring this year, I believed him. I believed him because I needed to grab onto some hope that spring would arrive soon. I still sat in fear of another dump of snow coming our way. That I would bundle up and still find myself cold. Looking out the window to see creation looking rather drab and dead looking.

One of the things I love about this town that is what happens this time every year. Little stocks of green pop up from the ground. Some purposely planted, others you wonder how they got where they are. I look forward to them every year. Doesn’t matter if Punxsutawney Phil said early spring or 6 more weeks of winter, they bloom. This year, they stick out so much more to me than in years past. In the mist of the lifeless scenery winter has given us, I saw a peek of yellow, the hope that spring is returning.

“So I took my turn
Oh what the things to’ve done
And it was all yellow” – Coldplay

anditwascalledyellow

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