In mid-February, I caught some signs of spring and told M. it was on its way, the seasons were changing. He told me I obviously still hadn’t caught on to Northern Michigan, that it was still winter, and that there would be plenty of snow left. But the weather got warmer, the snow melted, the ski hills closed early, the air started to smell like fresh dirt, my friends and I took our swimsuit-clad kids to the beach, and in an illogically gleeful moment when I was talking with my mother-in-law about an appropriate spot for an herb garden, I actually thought about planting something. It appeared that the Northern Michigan immigrant had triumphed over the native.
And then came today…30 degrees with flurries, and snowy white fields flanking the roads, just to remind me where I really am!