This past weekend, Spring popped in for a visit. Though I sorely wish it would have stuck around, at least it served as a reminder that eventually warm weather, mud, rain, and most of all warmth will
return to the North.
Of course, we all know that Spring will come eventually. At least we can be reasonably certain, as it has a pretty good track record thus far. Still, at this time of year - when the winter boots have started leaking just a little and the winter jacket could really use a good launder, when closed-window radiator-heated air has turned skin into sandpaper, fingernails into flimsy shells and hair into a frazzled frizzy mess best kept under a hat, when waking up in the morning to fresh snow is so depressing the only option is to crawl back into bed - I begin to, not doubt
exactly, but feel a desperate urgency bordering on mania, for the end of winter.
Perhaps a warmer climate would be a healthy choice.