Sun-warmed

It is a glorious day. I mean, the kind of day that when you walk outside the sun greets you like a physical presence on your face and bare arms and the inside of your car smells like toasted leather and dirt and the birds are making such a racket you're not sure if you love them or hate them. But mostly you love them. And the light is golden and the land around you has a newly-hatched look, even though on close inspection it's still just the same old brown hills and dusty streets. The light, after the hard glare of winter, is now a caressing, playful, friendly thing that brings smiles and the opening of both your arms and your soul. Your eyes, though, squint in the brightness, unaccustomed after the long dark winter to such plenty.