Yesterday, in case you forgot, was the first day of spring. Tomorrow’s the first day of summer. Or so it seems.
I think nature, in all its tyranny, bum-rushes the sweet, warm months out the door, but lets the grim months get down on all fours and crawl. I hate winter for that, for dawdling, and for so, so, so much more. Today, I hate it because thoughts of that evil, icy torment are infringing on my gorgeous summer afternoon.
Only halfway through June and I’m already starting to dread winter. Somehow, though, I chanced on an enchanting inspiration. It reads:
You know, no matter how many times I study those hopeful words I think to myself: bullshit.
It’s all well and good to wax poetic about depths and invincible, but words won’t keep you warm while you scrape ice off the windshield. In the cold and the dark and the snow. No flipping way. It’s a fine, lyrical thought, but useless against frostbite and chilblains.
Fortunately, I’ve devised a more powerful solution: screenshots. Those images of current local weather conditions act as permanent, lasting reminders of glorious days. Long, gentle evenings. Bright, fresh mornings. They prove summer did, in fact, happen. It wasn’t a delusion, it really, truly occurred. We’ll want to remember that along about November, maybe October.
So start collecting images now on your smartphones and tablets and computers. Stockpile thunderstorms and pollen counts and ozone alerts, all things summer. One day very soon, the day after tomorrow probably, you’ll be very glad you did.
copyright © 2016 the whirly girl
the whirly girl 