Sunday, we had a taste of summer. It was so warm—nearly bumping 70—that the air felt heavy. So luxurious!
After church, the kids shucked shoes and straightaway went about the serious business of making all things mud, and I coerced my husband into planting some shrubs. What is it with our innate need, come the first signs of spring, to plunge our hands into the dirt? We are such primal beings.
This week, the temperatures are dropping again. But that’s okay. At least we had a taste.