March 2026 SOLC–Day 9
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Your starting phrase is “The sky seemed a little bit…”

The sky seemed a little bit like an invitation. The clouds gathered in streaks behind our overgrown apple tree. There were patches of blue and grey and a mixture of patterns.  I felt the tug to wander outside. To see more. I put on my boots and headed out, phone in hand.

Avoiding the remnants of ice on the brick pathway, I walk through the snow-piled garden and onto the driveway. My feet make sloppy prints in the muddy gravel. I look up at the sky again, intrigued by the pebbled texture of the clouds. Click. Click. 

I consider my best vantage and walk further down the driveway to line up a different shot. Click. Click. Sometimes I forget to just notice what’s around me instead of taking pictures. I deliberately lower my phone and turn a full circle in the driveway, eyes on the sky. Even as I watch, the grey clouds were parting to highlight blue skies.

It’s warm today. 60˚F. A gift as surely as the skies are. Both are something to savor.  

A little while later we walk on the loop through town for the first time in months. Usually I resent the lost hour of sleep/work/whatever from Daylight Savings so much that it obscures the benefits. Perhaps it’s the unexpected warmth of today, but I’m feeling positive. It will be light enough for afternoon walks now. Things are shifting.

Downtown, we step onto the bridge to look out over the river. A small flock of mergansers hugs the edge of ice. The water is opening up again. There’s a feeling of change in the air.

The shift toward spring is evident in the glowing warmth of the sun, the changing shadows, the water rushing along the edge of the street and waterfalling into the gutter. 

“Listen to the water rushing,” I comment to Kurt. “It’s such a spring sound!”

“It’s not spring,” he says, channeling Eyeore. “It’s not spring for twelve more days.”

I might have rolled my eyes. 

“Well, you’re welcome to keep thinking it’s winter, but I’m going to be happy thinking it’s spring,” I comment. 

We continue along companionably, chatting about this and that. Enjoying stretching our legs and the glorious warmth. Every now and then I snap another photo, loving the interplay of clouds in the sky, the shadows, the changing light.

At the bottom of our driveway, Kurt turns to head home. 

“I’m going to walk a little bit more,” I announce, not ready to call an end to enjoying the warmth and the last minutes of weekend freedom before the onset of a work week. 

“Ok,” he says, and we move off in different directions.

Farther down the road, I pause at a field, admiring the snow covered angles, the line of trees, the expanse of sky, the rich layered colors in the clouds. Far overhead I catch sight of something soaring. Broad wing strokes rise and fall against a canvas of clouds. Is it an eagle? 

I watch for a few minutes, enjoying its movement against the sky, imagining that its enjoying the spring-like day as much as I am. From this far it’s hard to tell, but then the bird flies slightly closer and turns, revealing that telltale white tail. Yes! It is an eagle.

Another gift. I hold it close and walk on.