As the sleep tiptoed away from my eyes this morning, and I discovered Chunk #1’s slumberous form had replaced my early-risin’ hubby, I could feel spring making its way into my house.
How does it do that?
Is it the early sunshine? Probably. But the air. What exactly makes the air in my house have a hint of Easter Egg hunts, my birthday, spring break, warm sunshine, and flowered skirts?
And then settles the memories of camping in the spring.
Fires, ‘smores, hot dogs, that tent-y smell, starry nights, card games by lanterns, a breezy silence, dirt, laughter, snuggly sleeping bags, bright sunshiney mornings, pancakes.
I got a hankerin’.
Where should we go camping?