Remember how great barefoot weather once felt
Robin Garrison Leach
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All through winter, we dreamed of the day we could go barefoot again. We wedged double-socked feet into rigid snow boots; our toes wriggled like worms on fishhooks. Scrunched together, covered with layers of protection, they grew soft and white. Tender.
Then spring came. Every day after school we’d beg to go outside barefoot. “Not yet!” we’d hear. We watched the thermometer, reporting the temperature like crazed weathermen:
“MOM! IT’S 70 DEGREES OUT THERE!”
“The ground is still cold,” she’d say. “Not yet.” We grumbled and groaned and waited.