It’s warm outside – for March in Minneapolis, anyway. The snow is nearly gone, birds are like hormonal teenagers calling out to each other. And spring fever, that annual excuse for allowing distractions to interrupt whatever needs doing, is hitting me repeatedly over the head.
Later today, thunderstorms are predicted. I love the first thunderstorms of spring as much as I love the first snowfall of winter or the first frosts of autumn. There’s an expectancy in me that belies this sun that is streaming through my office window in weak end-of-winter rays. I keep looking out the window, waiting for the storm front to arrive. That first flash of lightning, that first crackle of thunder, that rain that is going to wash away evidence of lingering winter – I’m waiting.
When winter comes to its final breath, who can sit still? Who can stay indoors? I took my camera with me yesterday, early in the morning when many were either still sleeping or in church. Downtown Minneapolis on a Sunday morning is perhaps not as quiet as might be expected; people gather at bus stops and light rail stations no matter what the time. But the parking lot near the Bob Dylan mural on Hennepin and Fifth was nearly empty.
The streets in Northeast were deserted.
Even the bagelry near our house could have used some more people.
But being out before everyone was a quiet gift. As I looked around at the way the light hit the streets and buildings, the way it illuminated the tables near us when Mick and I stopped for bagels and coffee, it was clear that the seasons are shifting. We’re headed for the light.
A little spring fever. It’s a good thing. A little thunderstorm might be even better.
All photos by kcmickelson.