It sounds like wet outside this morning and it is tricking me into believing it is spring. I'm not excited in the way that I usually am for spring, hyped up to get the fuck out of the city and into the bush for 4 months of alternate reality- planting trees and being dirty and surrounded by 50 alcoholic pot-head peter-pan forever-life crisisers.
no, we are not going treeplanting. we have escaped the cult. (my decade in the bush treeplanter partner and i who have collectively placed in the ground 1, 000, 000 lucky little saplings)
He is so close to finally getting a job (paramedic) and I am so happy being surrounded by animals all day and planting is just a blip on our life radar, a fun story to tell people as to how we met (he was my supervisor and i spent an entire summer pine-ing over him...bahaha)
Plus, I think this winter we have planted more than trees, but of course i always think that (but this month my breasts have been swollen for weeks) (i should take a photo, apparently people are into boobs).
I'm excited for spring because it means I won't be cold all the time, instead i will be wraped up in the warm cozy duvet of life instead of in bed shivering on a Tuesday morning. Lakes and beaches and sunshine and horseback riding without snot-cicles. canoe. canoe. canoe. and wild berries and daisies.
MELT mothafucka MELT
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