Yesterday afternoon it must have hit 43 degrees. People were tearing off their clothes and dashing naked into the lake. No, not really. The ice on the surface hasn't melted yet, how could they dash in? Don't be ridiculous.
Still the weather was, for Minneapolis anyway, gorgeous. So my daughter and I went out for a walk.
Everywhere were signs of spring in all its Twin Cities glory. The rivers of water rushing into the sewers. The sloshy sidewalks, the mud puddles. And of course the surest sign of urban spring on the way: the dizzying array of potholes. Kiss your front wheel alignment goodbye, Minnesotans! It's spring!
We went to the deli for some ice cream. It was so pleasant we nearly took a seat outside. But we didn't, on account of not being crazy. Instead we sat at one of the new tables inside the almost-renovated shop and watched the minivans bumping in and out of the craters in the road.
We stopped in at the bookstore and chatted with the man who runs the place and the lovely young lady (the owner's daughter) who works there. We talked about how glad everyone was flu season seems to be on the way out. Not over, mind you, but on the way out.
Then we walked home. And, finally, we saw a single robin redbreast.
That's when we broke into cheers.