Desperate.
I'm getting desperate for spring. DESPERATE.
We have enough snow on the ground that it could be February. Or November. Or really anything but SPRING like it's supposed to be.
I want--no, need--bright. And fresh. I want to wear my new white jeans and put on my sunglasses for once. I want to hear the birds chirp and start the garden and go for a bike ride without needing snow tires. My brain is a muddle as if I have been blinded by the whiteness of it all. I am so desperate that, in an act of superstition, I had my husband remove the paper snowflakes that were still adorning our doors this weekend. Because maybe it's our fault and our little papercuts are summoning the real ones. Right?
Hey, how about some bright, cheerful pillow pairings?
We have enough snow on the ground that it could be February. Or November. Or really anything but SPRING like it's supposed to be.
I want--no, need--bright. And fresh. I want to wear my new white jeans and put on my sunglasses for once. I want to hear the birds chirp and start the garden and go for a bike ride without needing snow tires. My brain is a muddle as if I have been blinded by the whiteness of it all. I am so desperate that, in an act of superstition, I had my husband remove the paper snowflakes that were still adorning our doors this weekend. Because maybe it's our fault and our little papercuts are summoning the real ones. Right?
Hey, how about some bright, cheerful pillow pairings?
The pinks and blues on the right are destined for this living room. So fresh and bright I will live vicariously through them.
Which would you choose? Is is Spring where you live? No, wait, don't tell me. Of course it is.