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About three weeks ago, I had the most glorious Monday I could remember having in quite some time.

For most of us, it’s hard to imagine that the phrase “glorious Monday” could be anything less than an oxymoron. I mean, spending at least eight Monday hours babysitting a desk and interacting with a machine that won’t talk back to us isn’t quite an exact replica of the idealistic life-portrait we painted for ourselves when we hit those arena doors donned in cap and gown, diploma in hand and wind in our hair.

But every once in a while, something extraordinary happens and reminds us that we don’t have it all that bad.

And so it was on this particular Monday that I swiveled around in my office chair and saw something that I had not seen in what felt like ages: THE SUN. I immediately thanked my good fortune that I had progressed to a state of professionalism as to be deemed worthy of a window, and being so favored, followed my overwhelming urge to toss the window open.

I then felt something I had not felt in what seemed like even longer ages: WARMTH.

The seasonal-affective fog that had permeated my mind during Old Man Winter’s terrible reign of 2009-2010 lifted almost instantaneously.

I let my mind soak up the ambient sound of a sun-soaked warm day. Cars whirred down the street. Laughter left the mouths of children playing in yards behind me. Birds perched atop the trees facing my window chirped the singsong sounds of spring’s birth.

I quickly decided that an early lunch was in order. As I walked outside, it occurred to me that I felt like I had lost about 15 pounds. A quick look at my stature confirmed that was untrue. And then it hit me: I wasn’t wearing a coat!

I made my way into my Pontiac G6, opened the sunroof, and headed for home. As I passed through Heartwell Park, arm dangling out my driver’s side window, I watched as park enthusiasts teemed where ducks had once huddled away from the icy waters of winter.

Once home, I decided that my porch would host its first meal of the season.

As I sat there, I pondered my favorite things to do during springtime in Hastings. A few of them follow:

1) Feed the ducks at Heartwell Park. It’s strange how I’ve never gotten over this one since I was about five years old.

2) Take a bike ride. Most of these usually end up at Dairy Queen.

3) Run outside. Let me be clear: I DO NOT ENJOY RUNNING. Since I feel obliged to do it, however, I celebrate the fact that I don’t have to worry about being catapulted off a rotating rubber belt anymore.

4) Walk around Fisher Fountain: This is another childhood favorite. There’s just something about watching colored streams of water dance against the night sky.

5) Eat ice cream. Okay, let’s be honest. Some of us do this year round, but it just seems to taste better when you’re soaking up some sun.

6) Be productive. During light-shortened days of the year, I always seem to hibernate. For some reason, I convince myself that if the sun has gone down at 6:00 p.m., then I need to get ready for bed (Read: “Watch four hours of TV until I don’t feel embarrassed about going to bed”).

To that end, rage, rage against the dying of the light. Hooray for springtime!

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About the author: Andy Herrmann

Andy is an oh-so-inquisitive twenty-something living in Hastings.  He had a quarter-life crisis early, at the age of 23. He is an avid moviegoer and a fan of things like books, parks, music, food, road trips, and any interesting combinations thereof.