False spring

This is the kind of day that somebody -- either the Comanche or a Hollywood screenwriter -- once called a "false spring."

It is an apt description. So apropos that I skipped the gym in favor of the Halls Greenway Trail. Too pretty to exercise inside.

I felt the sun on my face, watched a bluebird fly its course, and dreamed of April. That so-called cruelest month is my favorite of the 12, a time of rejuvenation, when the earth awakens from its slumber.

I wanted to go to a baseball game. Then, I remembered it was winter, so I came home to eat a ham sandwich. Such is life.

Walking along the marsh, I encountered the best of Halls (strangers stopping to say howdy) and the worst (anti-Semitic sentiment spray painted on the retaining wall behind the empty Bi-Lo). I shook my head. Guess some things never change.

Funny how even a 30-minute jaunt can do wonders for the soul. I can't help but wonder what might happen if the whole world stopped to smell the proverbial roses.

Decided to skip a New Year's resolutions piece this year. Those, too, have become a cliche. Nobody keeps them anyway.

But, I am determined to forgo so much television this year in favor of a good book, live music, a lazy drive or an hour at the gym. Life is short. Carpe diem.

As I sit here now, calmed by my workout, "A Prairie Home Companion" playing on the radio, I can't help but look unafraid toward 2009.

Anything seems possible on a false spring Sunday afternoon.