Spring in February

I've always chuckled at the notion of Groundhog Day - here in the middle latitudes of the northern hemisphere, it is a given that on February 2 there is always going to be six more weeks of winter.

It was uncommonly beautiful today, though - in the upper 50s, bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Half a million people piled into the streets and Civic Center Park for the Broncos' victory parade. I wasn't one of them, but it was great to watch the live feed after going for a long brisk walk at lunch.

Walking is my favorite and most consistently practiced form of exercise. It's the one thing I can do every day, even when it's cold; the only thing that keeps me inside is rain, snow, or the occasional gale-force winds we get around here.

It's imperative to be outside. I don't know how people run on treadmills. A colleague of mine goes for her walks in a parking garage. Me, I have to have the sun on my skin, the breeze on my face, gravel crunching under my boots.

Okay, so it was a paved bike/walk path, but you get the idea.

There is something sacred and inimitable about being outside. Fresh air in the lungs and sunshine warming the skin are the things that make me feel alive. Crows chattering in the trees, rabbits and squirrels darting around lawns, pools of meltwater from rapidly disappearing snow drifts, are positively sacred. They remind me of why life is beautiful, and every hour that I get away from my computer to soak up the sun is an hour spent in the church of Pagan.

Nature is divine. We are blessed every time we step outdoors, if only we open our eyes to see.