It’s the beginning of spring, it’s the end of spring. Long live spring.

I hate writing about weather. It feels inane to write about something so inevitable. But I catch myself doing it anyway because of the effect it has on my mood, my actions, and my activity for each day. It plays an enormous role in how I will choose to operate in the world around me.

Winter was hard here. Ceaseless. Precipitation was an expectation, not an exception. Days laying on my couch and watching old films or sitting in my local, commiserating on the state of things with my fellow barflies constituted a norm. Unexpected dental woes leaving me reeling contributed to winter’s nasty longevity.

A brief late-April trip to Mexico thankfully interrupted the flow of the late season Brooklyn coldness and darkness and I left the 85F/30C daily temperature rejuvenated and sun-fed, on the high of a soulful, nourishing trip.

My May thus far has been an incredible reversal from previous months. Long, endless walks. Time for meditation, reflection.

Anticipation for a summer I couldn’t be more thrilled to partake in. One that I look forward to not taking for granted.