There on the edge of the pond were a convention of ducks of all ages, super psyched, like me, that the ice was melting.
Yesterday I went for a walk around Jamaica Pond, which is not in Jamaica, Jamaica, but in Massachusetts, next to Boston, but at 47, after what has felt like an epic winter of Tundra temps, it felt like Jamaica, Jamaica.
Let’s face it, New England is not where I should be living. Although, when you have a day like yesterday, after a long spell of meat locker temperatures, you get a jolt of life force that nothing else can give you, which is pretty special. And last night we pushed the clocks ahead, so hell to the yes on that, too. Oh momma nature, thanks for pulling it together. It was just in time.
Look at that whole big area where the ice has melted. Hope!
I'm a wife, the mother of two full-on adult kids, and a dog, a really, really good friend, a freelance advertising copywriter, and an accidental blogger. (I'm also a whole bunch of other stuff, but who's got time to hear about it.) You should come visit my blog (it explains the accidental blogger thing, plus you might like it). It's at gratitudeathon.wordpress.com. I write about stuff I'm grateful for (I'd be grateful if you stopped by.).
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*the gratitude-a-thon 