There was yet more snow when I woke up this morning. And that flat, grey light that signals winter. I know I should not be surprised to find winter outside my door in February. I've lived on the plains long enough to know, damn groundhog or no, winter will consume most of March too. But we have cruel little pockets of warmth and sunshine that are so deceiving. Days that breed hope. Days I pull my sandals out of storage and take long walks, thinking spring is coming. And then there's snow when I wake up.
So for me, please, please write about somewhere warm today. A beach. The desert. Mars. Just make it downright hot. Poem, research project, romance---doesn't matter as long as the locale is steamy and has a starring role in the piece. Bonus points if you include a very cold editor from Nebraska.