Less than a month until spring

 Less than a month until spring.

I can almost feel it. The cracked windows. The muddy shoes by the door. The kids asking to stay outside just five more minutes while the sun stretches longer across the yard.

And I am ready.

Ready for warmer air. Ready for green grass. Ready to shake out the rugs and let the whole house breathe again.

But I also know this slow season is about to disappear.

Right now, the evenings are quiet. We’re still tucked inside. Pajamas on early. Soup on the stove. Blankets on the couch. The calendar isn’t screaming yet. No back-to-back practices. No late sunsets pushing bedtime later and later.

It’s slow.

And I don’t want to rush it just because I’m craving sunshine.

Because once spring hits, it moves fast. The days fill up. The laundry doubles. The house is in and out, in and out. The baby grows. The big kids get bigger. Everything stretches forward.

So I’m holding both.

The anticipation of what’s coming.
And the gratitude for what’s still here.

One last stretch of cozy mornings.
One last stretch of unhurried nights.
One last little pocket of winter stillness before life blooms loud again.

Spring is coming.

But for now, I’m treasuring the quiet.