Twenty-five days to spring.  I counted.  There is a dull roar of the wind tossing the tree branches to and fro.  It is almost a perfect day for putting up a kite.  The living room front door is open and and the thermostat lowered to sixty-five.  The heat is not kicking on.  The daffodils are five inches tall already.  I like walking around my yard to see what other new growth is appearing.  I am wondering whether the new bed of roses will come up.  There is no evidence of it yet.  Even the dogs want to spend more time outside and are loath to come in when they are out.  The temperature is slowing rising.  There are less days now when it hits the freezing point overnight.  Before I know it spring will arrive.