Is that. . . Spring???

I was walking in the tunnels to class yesterday, accustomed to the clouded, gray sky I saw through the windows just peeking over the grass outside. When I emerged from Hagg-Sauer at 9:35, I saw more of the same, dreary, gray sky. I scurried past the smokers because it was still cool, being 9:35 in the morning, and the sun had yet to really rise let alone attempt a break out from the jail that seemed to trap it. And I really needed my coffee. Then, on my way back to Hagg-Sauer from Sattgast around noon, I had to blink. A lot. What was this thing, this thing that burned my eyes? It was less yellow than the lights in the buildings. . . could it be. . . SUNLIGHT? I felt my skin burn, not crawl with cold. I smelled evergreens. I was outside, and I could smell something other than COLD. I laughed. Out loud. I made the person walking by me jump--perhaps it was a crazy laugh. I had the first scent of Spring, and I wasn't about to go back inside anytime soon. Even if it meant walking through many puddles of water with my holey shoe. Because that was melted ice I was walking through. Not ice.

When I catch that first scent of Spring, I go a little crazy. Like a man that was shut in solitary for six months emerging to a sunny day in August, by the ocean with a view of the mountains, his favourite dog waiting for him by an ice cream van on free ice cream day.
Once, in middle school, emerging to very little snow, a lot of mud puddles, and a hot sun grazing my face, I ran to the middle of the 'recess' area and began twirling. I also tried to dance with my friend, who was very put off by my odd behaviour. So, I stopped twirling and dancing. It's hard to twirl and dance with someone standing as still as possible, hoping to get away from the freak who went from being slightly depressed to maniacally happy.

So I went to my creative nonfiction class yesterday at 4, on the verge of skipping out and running to the park to find a bench to perch on. When I got to class, I just couldn't help myself. The words spilled out as soon as my professor walked in with her high heels and knee-length skirt.
"We should have class outside today."
"Okay."
Huh? Did she see what she was wearing?
"You'll have to go through some snow to get to the benches." I was staring at her heels. And her poka-dot leggings.
"Okay. As long as everyone else is willing, I sure am."
So that's how we ended up trooping outside to find some benches to sit on. Half of us got settled before she stared at the snow and said, "I'm thinking we might freeze out here."
You're in a skirt and heels, I thought. She continued to say that we should go inside to do the presentations. And then she made me feel like an idiot, because yes, while it was my idea, I was high on sunlight and temperatures that I'm sure actually hit 33. She yelled, "Sorry, Kris, but I promise we'll have class outside as soon as it gets nice."
This isn't nice? After below zero weather and a sun that seemed to have gone south with the birds?
I'm pretty sure at least half my writing class was irritated with me that day. Jenny (my friend in the class) thought it was all very funny. At least she did.

Don't get me started on today. It was 40 and so sunny I tried to think where I left my spare sunglasses. . . and remembered they are on the back seat of my Dad's 'burbon, 90 miles away. The sad thing is, we'll get another snowstorm before Spring really hits. Ah, Minnesota weather.