the best literary use of "little ice floes" maybe ever

We missed this glorious Caitlin Shetterly essay about finding ~a room of one’s own~ on winter runs the first time around last month, but listen, it’s that point in spring where slush isn’t so much annoying as it is something to enjoy waxing poetic on, and also like... how often do you really find an essay about writing and running and mnemonic devices and springtime metaphors that isn’t a one-way ticket to Cliché City?? Basically never. This one’s good and will ALMOST make you miss the cold.