Thursday, February 26, 2009
Let's Not Be Hasty
You know, I keep hearing people saying the earliest signs of Spring are everywhere. Everyone seems to be thinking of bunnies and chicks and seedlings and balmy breezes and I find myself looking around perplexedly and wondering just which planet these people have landed from.
I suppose most of them (you?) may be living in the more temperate of the united states or in other countries altogether, but, I gotta tell ya, here in New Jersey, all systems are still reading Winter. Not a peek of green to be seen, not a breath of warmth (even the less cold days still have that chilly air about them), not a sign that Spring is on her way.
And, call me a Spring Scrooge, but I, for one, am just not ready yet. I'm an oddball; I like Winter. I like frosty days and frigid nights and cuddling up under flannel sheets and endless cups of steaming hot tea (which I drink the same way and in about the same amounts in the steamiest days of summer, but that is beside the point). I like boots and hats and gloves and scarves. I like seeing my breath in the cold air and feeling the blood being snapped into my cheeks.
And I like snow. No, I love snow. I liiiiiiiiive for snow storms and snow days and snow men and snow angels. I cross my fingers all Winter long, hoping for at least one bracing "snow event" (as the weatherpeople are now calling them--ridiculous), wishing boldly for even a few. And we haven't gotten even a decent snow fall yet this year. The Farmer's Almanac had predicted a hard, snowy Winter this year and I was so stoked for it! I was ready! But, no, another dull, dreary, grey Winter with nothing exciting snow-wise about it.
So, no. I'm not quite ready for Spring. Not yet. I know February is almost over and March is upon us and all the stores have their shelves stocked full of every kind of bunny and chick you can imagine, but I would like just one good snow storm. Just one. And I can make beef stew or chili and homemade hot chocolate and wander back and forth to and from the window gazing contentedly at the loveliness falling all around us outside and scold the children for tracking snow into the house and fuss over them, putting their gloves and socks in the dryer and warming their hands between mine while their fresh scones finish cooling.
Then I'll be ready. With bells on.