St. Paddy's day was beautiful - almost balmy - a bounty of sun and warm air. At nearly 70 degrees F, it was the day I gave my winter coat it's marching orders. "Ciao, furs!", I exclaimed. Sure, it may grow cold and dreary a few more times... but all that will be interspersed with other such glorious days, right?
WRONG!!! The ice came and coated everything! And now we've plunged into a freezy sort of psuedo-spring. The crocuses have turned from wide-open, fragrant blooms to little, ice-covered, alien pods. The tulips that had begun to emerge now whisper discontentedly about going home to Holland just as soon as their plane can be de-iced.
Mom says I am only four years old so I cannot know that a Spring of slow beginnings will suddenly burst into a cacophony of colours, scents and sounds I will never forget. I kind of have to believe her since she is over 30. I mean, in dog years she'd be, like, 220 almost, so she must know something.
But I'm running out of patience. Don't make me wait too long, you splendid Spring.