Conditions in town are still too dangerous for walking so Jack and I set out for the forest again and had a quiet, contemplative walk in the sunshine. I can finally see that the sun is climbing higher in the sky and even though it’s still cold the air carries a promise of spring. This is the time of year that I get the most frustrated with winter. I’m fed up with heavy socks and leggings and just plain tired of hats and scarves, mittens and boots. Why is it that the shortest month of the year always feels like it’s the longest?