You probably think I’m about to delve into a huge rant, blabbering on and on about something that irks me, something that has struck a nerve. But that would be too predictable, too simple. As this is a slugger, I’m going to send you one, readers, but on the opposite end of the editorial spectrum.

A little over a month ago, in the midst of a typically bleak winter in February, the supposedly last cold month of the year before spring wafts over us, we got a rare surprise. Mother Nature randomly decided we had suffered enough and were deserving of a day of short sleeves and rolled-up jeans.

I call these days, days like Friday, Feb. 18, Romantic Days. A Romantic Day is when you can stand outside, sans winter coat, and breathe in, smell the grass, hear the birds chirping and breathe out without seeing the vapor that tells you just how frigid it is.

That day, the mood of WJ was lifted. Everywhere everyone was smiling, excitable, chattering. When the first few signs of spring pop up, some people who tend to be in foul moods when cold weather hits (victims of Seasonal Affective Disorder), find their spirits elevated. Even from raw personal observation, I could tell that this was true. My own mood was lifted that day, and my hopes were higher, despite the assessments that day and the abundance of homework assigned for the weekend.

That Friday wasn’t out of the ordinary, aside from the weather. The work amount was the same, the schedule unchanged. Normally the only thing uplifting to high schoolers in the middle of winter on a Friday is the weekend that awaits at the sound of the bell at 2:10 p.m. But as soon as the temperature hit 75 degrees, endless possibilities opened up. Warm weather meant hanging out with friends outside, throwing around a Frisbee, taking a walk or even just stargazing out in your backyard, activities inconceivable on a cold day. And we were granted this pleasure in February, of all months.

A day like that made it possible to get excited for spring. We got our hint of the near future, the warm weather that waits for us. Now we want it. Now, without a doubt, we can’t wait for winter to leave us alone and go bother the Southern Hemisphere.

More often than not, editorial columns skew in the direction of complaints about annoying fans and word crutches (totes), overbearing parents, the laziness of the human race and the foibles of being a twin.

So in the spirit of spring, rather than encourage the trend, I’ll reverse it. At least for this month.