Catherine Nicolai

Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned. And by the time I'd made it back home, my little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me. And after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on to sleep in. Older and wiser, I opened the curtains, rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.

Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned. And by the time I'd made it back home, my little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me. And after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on to sleep in. Older and wiser, I opened the curtains, rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.

Our outing had lasted longer than I'd planned. And by the time I'd made it back home, my little flat was cold and drafty. It had chased all the warmth right out of me. And after I'd closed up the windows, I'd had to layer two pairs of sweatpants on to sleep in. Older and wiser, I opened the curtains, rather than the windows themselves, and sunlight filled my rooms.

I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater and just regular socks rather than the double thick ones, which barely squeezed into my shoes.

I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater and just regular socks rather than the double thick ones, which barely squeezed into my shoes.

I got dressed excitedly, still dressing warmly, but choosing a thinner sweater and just regular socks rather than the double thick ones, which barely squeezed into my shoes.

Back downstairs, I donned my coat and boots and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car warmed up around me, I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect.

Back downstairs, I donned my coat and boots and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car warmed up around me, I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect.

Back downstairs, I donned my coat and boots and was out the door again. I still didn't know where I was going, but I felt the urge to go, to see, to be out in the world. On the road, as my car warmed up around me, I figured a coffee from the coffee shop, a bun from the bakery, and then a long drive out on the state road would be perfect.

I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up. Reaching into my bag, I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while, and I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sunny skies. After weeks of snow and ice, today dawned with a different feeling.

I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up. Reaching into my bag, I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while, and I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sunny skies. After weeks of snow and ice, today dawned with a different feeling.

I'd stop at that bridge that crosses the river and get out and listen to the ice breaking up. Reaching into my bag, I found my sunglasses. I hadn't needed them in quite a while, and I slipped them on and turned on the radio. I smiled into the sun. Sunny skies. After weeks of snow and ice, today dawned with a different feeling.

I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning and at night. It still felt like it didn't add up to much. But I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. There was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon.

I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning and at night. It still felt like it didn't add up to much. But I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. There was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon.

I'd been noticing the extra minute of daylight in the morning and at night. It still felt like it didn't add up to much. But I remembered what one of my yoga teachers used to say about small steps. 1% today, 1% tomorrow. And this morning, that 1% change was tangible. There was a different scent in the air, a different texture of light as the sun cut across the horizon.

It wasn't spring, I knew that.

It wasn't spring, I knew that.

It wasn't spring, I knew that.

But it was a reminder that winter wasn't just one thing.

But it was a reminder that winter wasn't just one thing.