He scampers to the fence line that he follows to the large pine. And proceeds to eat leafs that have not been buried by the snow. His impossible darkness; you can barley see him, in the light sometimes it’s hard. Only his random gagging on leaf fibres gives hime away. Then he pounces out from under the tree and bounds into the middle of the yard. He buries his snout in the dry powder. Emerges with a cold white beard from the tops of his ears to the corners of his mouth. A leaf stem dangles from the corner of his lips.
And you know you have to tell him.
It won’t always be like this Charley, you say. Spring is coming. Spring is cool. There are flowers and shoots and blossoms and all kinds of stuff just explodes into being. And then; then it’s Summer, buddy! There is going to be shorts and t-shirts and sticky sweaty nights and swimming and….warmth.
It’s a thing. A gorgeously awesome, highly anticipated thing that you will love with a fury and intensity and an unbridled all-in-ness, the way you love everything; and the way we desperately want to love you.
Let’s go inside.
John's Writing 