I’m so done with Old Man Winter, it’s not even funny. Never in all my days have I been so sick of winter… but I am SO sick of winter.  Every morning I wake up, put on layers of boring clothing and trek out into the cold. Squeezing my body heat in to the best of my ability and trying to remember what it feels like to have a nose have become regular occurences for me, and I’m not crazy about it. Every once in a while, when winter gets closer to handing off the baton to spring, we get glimpses of the wonders that lie ahead: liberating clothing,  painless use of fingers, no fear of ice. These things are fabulous, and now… with spring’s official start date a little over a week away, I find myself cheering the season on as if it’s Billy Elliot. I welcome the time change that will force me to lose an hour of sleep, I embrace the tedious task of changing out wardrobes and I count down the HOURS until I can turn off that blasted, good for nothing heater.

I hope that one day I’ll wake up and that big sun will feel warmer, my front porch will be inviting company of all sorts and it will be sunny well after 9 PM.  Hurry, spring. You can do it.