It makes me long so much for warmer weather, flowers, and the scent of fresh cut grass, and the spring onions that invariably make me nauseous and sneezy when they're mowed over.
But, what I want to hear most - above all else - is the beginning of the races. Up behind my house is the local racetrack/speedway. Every Friday night in summer, they race cars. The sound of the engines roaring is like a bell that rings to bring on my Pavlovian response of tank tops and beach trips.
Once I hear that beautiful sound, I know that there will be no more cold. There will be no more snow or ice. And it will be light and warm, and I can open all of my windows to hear that beautiful, sweet, dirty sound. It is the rush that I crave, even without realizing that I crave it. I don't always look forward to it. Sometimes it sneaks up on me. All of the sudden, I hear the roar of those engines and I am giddy with excitement, despite my delighted surprise.
My mother never understood why I didn't mind the noise. It was the only thing about the house that she had reservations about that I can remember. She figured it might wake the baby. It never did. And it was always a source of joy and contentment for me. It signaled the beginning of when I could sit under my carport in the evenings and sip on something cold while relaxing and watching the young'un play outside. Time for dining al fresco.
I'm looking forward to this so much. I simply can't wait. I am hoping it happens in the next few weeks. I never look up the schedule, and I still won't. I like for it to be a surprise. I'm just hoping that after such a cold winter, the surprise comes sooner than later.