The weather is still indecisive. It sometimes chooses to be a crisp cold and other times chooses to be a vibrant warmth, both of which seem to penetrate the skin to the body's core. Considering that winter does not officially transition into spring for another week, the weather seems to have a valid reason to be fickle.
Today, for some reason, I recalled a line from one of my favorite movies from childhood. "Tr-la-la-la-la. Spring is in the air, and I am the flower. With nothing interesting to say." --A Bug's Life
Although I'm taking that line out of context from the actual situation in Pixar's movie, the clinging memory of the computer-animated lush blades of grass and fine veins of leaves compelled me to step outside and examine the more microscopic (yet deceptively simplistic with their abundance) aspects of the outdoors. It had been some time since I had gone out past my normal boundaries of the yard. Since today is Friday the 13th, an oddity that occurs anywhere from one to three times out of the year, I decided to follow suit and take a break from my normal view of interior walls.
...and it seems that signs of spring had popped up over night.
Their fleeting existence is what makes them quite magical. Just like their sudden appearance, one day--poof!--they'll be gone again.
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