Every birthday I can ever remember has mud in it. Not necessarily that I got muddy, but just that the colors outside are dull and monochromatic and everything is damp and musty and if I were to step off the sidewalk, I would get mud in my shoes–yes, in them, not just on them.

This is February. My birth must’ve been about the most exciting thing to happen to my parents that month because Lord knows there wasn’t anything else too pretty to look at in Iowa around that time.

And so here I am, 25 years later and I’m stuck in a February-rut of dreariness. The snow is melting and it’s almost time to start shedding layers, but not quite…so I hold out for March because surely March will bring some sunshine and color. Right?