I awoke to a mix of snow and rain this morning. It's a strange sort of scenario - I do love the rain, truly. I prefer it over snow, completely, and I like the coziness that is inherent with being inside while it rains outside. I like how rain drops cling to branches and my nose, I love how clean the world appears after a good rainfall. So I can't even say that I'm totally disgruntled about this weather, when I'm in the moment of it. However, it is nothing short of jarring to be faced with the fact that this sort of weather - not just rain, after all, but also snow - is still pelting the northeast at the end of March. To this California girl, March has always, always, always been the start of spring - the first day of spring literally falls within this month! So, I find myself torn, between enjoying the coziness of the weather, wanting to bundle up in a warm sweater, sip hot cocoa, maybe bake something, and realizing that I most certainly cannot do these things, because this is supposed to be spring. Leading the way into summer, which can never allow for any sort of bundling, opting instead for the lightest and wispiest of layers. It's a strange conundrum for me, to be sure.