I sit on the porch this morning, having set the clocks to spring, waiting for the call from the man to work that should come in moments. Having taken our morning stroll around the neighborhood with Nice (the dog), the sprigs of spring have been showing for days, in some cases weeks even sprouting through the melting snow. I've turned off the heat in the house to get ready for the cool mornings on the road that will surely come with our trip up north. Cool mornings put spring in our steps.
With the spring comes the smells that have been frozen over the winter months. The scents have keyed my memory, much to my surprise, of the days last year on the road. The unfortunate wild life who didn't make it to the far side of the road. Indiana had all manner of things, Illinois had frogs and turtles in abundance, Missouri had things I never see in Kentucky like armadillos and more. I miss the sunrise, the fog, the dew, early birds, the deer, the scunk and rabbits. I miss the sweet smell of scunk and the odor of road kill. I miss the smiles, the conversations with strangers and new found friends. I miss pushing myself far beyond what I thought I was capable of. I miss doing some good.