When I was a kid, living on a farm, I used to wander around alone a lot outside.
Just now, when outside with my dog, I could smell spring—cold mud, melting snow—and there were actually crocuses poking out through the dirt in front of our building. It gave me flashbacks to spring on the farm, and I remembered taking photos of streams made of melted snow running over the stones in the laneway. For some reason it struck me as so beautiful that here I am, twenty years later, remembering it. The changing seasons always give me a good, tingly belly.
The photos of course didn’t do the scene justice, I have never had a talent for photography, and probably my excitement for spring coloured the moment. It would be nice to still have them though.
