It's going to be 7 degrees and sunny today...I was outside in a fleece sweater and jeans, and a bike ride is being planned for this afternoon. Both of my windows are open and my heat is off. I never thought I'd see the day when I would consider the low 40's as warm. (When I was little and living in Phoenix, I distinctly remember thinking that it was going to be cold one day when the high was 58 degrees (14 C). My sister and I wore coats to school.)
Apparently it's been a rough winter for New Brunswick...more snow than usual and a giant ice storm that coated EVERYTHING in a glittery layer of frozen-ness. So now that we're coming out of it, I'm seeing more and more people out in the town, taking off mittens as they walk down the street...and you can't turn your head without hearing somebody talk about how nice the weather is.
I've always liked the springtime, but here, people (and I include myself in this) really appreciate it. And "appreciation" isn't a strong enough word..."rejoicing" might be more fitting. I was in Bridge Street Cafe a couple of weeks ago, and there was a note folded up on one of my friend's tables that said "Read me!" on the outside. On the inside, there was an excited "Spring is here!" with a butterfly drawn next to the words. I asked her about it, and she said, "Oh yeah, you're just supposed to take that and put it on a table for people to find."
It's hard not to be happy, and I can't stop smiling whenever I walk between campus and the downtown area--and I find excuses to go outside (like this morning, to the Sackville Farmers' Market to get some deliciously greasy veggie samosas--Ali Shott, if you're here on a weekend, you're coming with me). The other week, I stopped to watch a robin hop around, and I was thrilled when I saw a patch of grass on campus that didn't have a speck of snow on it. Then proceeded to stand in the grass for a second just to feel it underneath my sneakers--I realized that I'd been walking on nothing but ice, snow, and cement for the past 3 1/2 months (with the exception of last weekend, when I was in Phoenix, but I also wanted to die the first day I was there--it was 80/30ish).
The only problem is...when the warm weather comes, I'm gone. We were at the pub last night, and one of my fellow Killamer friends just randomly looks at me and said, "You can't leave."
Another friend told me that it makes her sick how "Canadian I am" (I asked for clarification on that one, and she meant that it's so clear to her that I fit here so well, and yet I can't stay). And to quote an invitation that's sitting in front of me, "Cool Americans are sometimes hard to find, so I'm so happy to have met you--and that you're cool!"--which makes my little star-spangled heart feel all fuzzy and warm.
So while I will be happy to go back to DC and the people and friends I love and that I'm missing there, leaving Sackville is going to be incredibly, incredibly difficult.
But again...it's going to be an awesome few weeks.