The only possible response to this is spelled in special characters: '#@*'
It’s supposed to be Spring. Right? And yet, as I write this, the weather is doing a marvelous impression of the inside of a car wash. With a full-on monsoon outside my door, spring seems a little far away. But it’s there…if you look for it. Pale green shooting up from the earth. Crocuses and daffodils blooming. Buds pushing on the trees. Wild geese calling overhead, on their way north for the summer.
With both Easter and Passover this week, I have renewal on the brain. Even my favorite yoga class was spring-focused, with the teacher instructing us to, ‘Curl into a tight ball, like a seed. And now unfurl. Sprout. Bloom!’ Hmmm… ok, then. I love yoga, but don’t necessarily see myself as the ‘sprouting’ type.
Instead, I’m treating myself to some delicious spring rosé. Rosé -the wine that can transport you to the beach in one sip. The wine that inspires you to dig out your flip flops and order a new bathing suit. Rosé-because summer isn’t quite here, but it definitely will be. It’s an instant mood elevator. I highly recommend you try it.
If that doesn’t work for you, we’ll be happy to find you some bourbon or big reds to help you hibernate for a few more days or weeks. But me? I’m reaching for the sun just like those green shoots, glass of zesty pink wine firmly in hand.