This past weekend, Spring popped in for a visit. Though I sorely wish it would have stuck around, at least it served as a reminder that eventually warm weather, mud, rain, and most of all warmth
will return to the North.
![](http://wrightarts.com/blog/uploaded_images/P3070009-763828.jpg)
Of course, we all know that Spring will come eventually. At least we can be reasonably certain, as it has a pretty good track record thus far. Still, at this time of year - when the winter boots have started leaking just a little and the winter jacket could really use a good launder, when closed-window radiator-heated air has turned skin into sandpaper, fingernails into flimsy shells and hair into a frazzled frizzy mess best kept under a hat, when waking up in the morning to fresh snow is so depressing the only option is to crawl back into bed - I begin to, not
doubt exactly, but feel a desperate urgency bordering on mania, for the end of winter.
![](http://wrightarts.com/blog/uploaded_images/P3070010-763883.jpg)
Perhaps a warmer climate would be a healthy choice.