Okay, where is it? Where’s spring? It’s supposed to arrive today, right now, in fact. 11:57 a.m. (CDT). Do you see it? I don’t see it. What’s worse is I don’t feel it.
Quick, call the police. Spring’s been stolen.
Here it is, late March and there are still crusty mounds of snow loitering in parking lots and along curbs, hiding in the shadows. Does that stuff disappear? Heck, no. Not only does it stick around, there’s more on the way. Snow is in the forecast for Monday.
Winter just won’t give up. It’s an occupying force, a cold, merciless invader. We didn’t even have a January thaw this year. This was, and is, the coldest, snowiest season on record. The longest, too. What with the polar vortices and arctic blasts and all, it feels as though this winter has lasted for years. Decades. And I’ve hated every minute.
The only way I survived such bleak, miserable weather was by telling myself, ‘hang on, spring will come.’ And I believed me. Sheesh, what a sucker; I’ll believe anything I say. Well, I won’t make that mistake again — I’m giving myself the silent treatment. That’ll show me.