I looked over at him now. Hunter was thin, almost a foot taller than my five feet, and had hair cut short to keep the welding sparks from burning holes in his head. Or so he said. I was fairly sure it was an excuse to run his electric shaver over his head once a week and save the hassle of getting an official haircut, but it was a good story, so I didn’t call him on it. “In some climates,” I said, “March is like a calendar photo. Hyacinths. Apple blossoms. Daffodils.”

“Shh!” Hunter whispered. “Do you want Eddie to hear? He’ll make you move somewhere warm and sunny. Arizona. Maybe New Mexico.”

I scoffed. “He wouldn’t like it there, either. Too hot in the summer. Fur coat, remember?”

“Mrr,” Eddie muttered.

Hunter leaned down and peered through the cat carrier’s wire door. “Sorry, bud. Looks like you’re stuck with Michigan.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say stuck.” I flicked the blinker and turned off the road and into the parking lot of a white clapboard township hall. “Sure, it’s dark and dreary, and the snow is still glopping down”—I nodded at the wafting snowflakes—“but a month from now the world will be transformed.”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

I parked on the far side of the gravel lot and we quickly ran through the opening routine. Unlatch Eddie, rotate the driver’s chair 180 degrees to serve as a computer chair, detach the bungee cord that held the castered chair, fire up both computers, and unlock the door for all who wished to enter.

Which was, at that point, a total of no one, so we continued our mutual admiration of springtime in Michigan.

With Eddie observing from the passenger seat headrest, we’d agreed that the worst part of this season was the eager wanderings of the skunk population, debated merits of purple versus yellow crocus (tied, one each), marveled over the fact that lakes could still be iced over while daffodils were blooming, mutually admitted to toe-curling delight when seeing the first hint of green leaves on maple trees, and had moved on to the topic of setting up a guessing contest of when the snow pile behind the library would completely melt when we jumped at a loud voice.

“You two actually enjoy this kind of weather?”

Hunter and I turned as one unit to face our first bookmobile patron of the day. I smiled at the elderly man. “Good morning, Mr. Valera. I didn’t expect to see you for another few weeks.”