Signpost

The sun has settled in its low hung roost for the twilight, and everything is bathed in honey-colored glow as headlights are ignited and lamposts shudder to dull, white life. The snow is sort of melting on the ground and there is a glorious and novel warmth to the air... even if it's not really warm at all. It's not spring yet, but at least you can tell, now, that it's coming.

Doubtlessly, there will be another kick to the face bout of winter right around the corner, but its days are numbered. It'll go out, gasping like a fish, trying desperately to dump one last foot of snow on us, or glaze over our roads with ice a few more times... but it's just an act at this point. The death warrant is signed and there will be no pardon.

These are days that act as welcome signposts on the long road out of the depressing crush of lifeless, sterile earth and back-breaking chill... There's a sort of anticipatory joy in them, even as there's an acknowledgment that, well, to be honest we still have a ways to go. But it's hope, nonetheless, and hope is always worth glomming onto, even if you only find it in a temperature that doesn't dip below freezing for a few days straight.

And so I totally rocked out on the drive home tonight, despite the inherent crappiness of the workday and the soul-sucking, mind-numbing tasks to be found there. I watched a beautiful sunset, listened to Sugar and felt, at least, a little bit happy for a while.