Be Prepared.

I don't care if it's 39, and I don't care if there was ice on the WeatherDeck this morning—it smells like spring out there, like soil and ozone and I'm not sure what all else, but two weeks ago when it rained and snowed it smelled altogether differently than it does out there now. It smells almost like a thunderstorm. Like a very slow, very chilly thunderstorm. It smells like wet street. Grass. Pine bark. Sidewalk. Dirt.

Don't look for the sun any time soon, say the fancies. If you've got paper boats, bundle up and take 'em down to the creeks and streams, which ought to be edging up over the next few days. We might see the moon on Monday night. It might be sixty on Tuesday. Between now and then, probably better than an inch of rain. Good chance to pull on a winter hat one last or next-to-last time. Good chance to think about how when all this is over, it'll be time to go looking for some sandals. Bone up on the intricacies of the double-switch, the Texas steal, the designated hitter. All that's not too far off now at all. Change the sheets. Wash the sinks. Cut your hair. When all this blows out and over, you're going to want to be ready.