We emerged from The Grayness.
And the angels sang.
After a relatively balmy January and February, March has gone straight at our seasonal cajones, throwing everything at us just for giggles: Rain, snow, ice, graupel (if you have to ask, you don't want to know) and, despite Daylight Savings Time, long, dark, gray days.
I wasn't thinking about sun when Ben and I went out for our morning walk. And I wasn't thinking about sun as I loaded the dishwasher, looking at backyard, which is still gray and brown, dully highlighted with the pale gold threads of dead grass.
But when I trotted down the basement stairs to throw a load of towels into the dryer, I saw this:
I saw sunlight.
I ran upstairs. There were shadows and sun spots everywhere, creating spontaneous abstract art in almost every room in the house.
Okay. I totally geeked out.
I ran around and took as many pictures as I could, anticipating the disappearance of this glorious orb at any moment.
Sunlight. It's out there. It's coming.
I have the evidence.
