For the most part, spring arrives in New England with a gentle rain, a few budding tulips, and the inevitable rise in temperature. Unfortunately, Old Man Winter slipped out of the rest home while Climate Nurse was on coffee break and set his sights on a late season snow bender. Where’s Dr. Kevorkian when you need him?
In case you didn’t guess, I’m not a snow fan. I’m not a cold fan. In fact, I only eat ice cream with cake, and this latest blast of Arctic air is about as welcome as a pap smear. That said, I’ve decided to make the best of it and ride out the storm with self-tanner, garden catalogues, and iced tea, think of it as a PG rated hand gesture toward Old Man Winter.
To be completely honest, I’m partially to blame for this precipitation pickle, Hubby and I tempted fate and bought a new patio table yesterday. Silly us, believing spring was near. What’s next, a bi-partisan congress? The perky clerk assured us the easy-peasy assembly did not require tools. She’s the tool, and unless my fingers sprout Allen wrenches this thing demands an MIT grad with saint-like patience. Or scotch. The jury is still out.
But hey, we’ve got snow brewing, projects looming, and nothing but time and instruction manuals to burn. Old Man Winter can kiss my flip-flops! Spring lurks around the corner, like a friendly mugger with a sack full of sunshine and allergy meds!
“If you don’t like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes.”
– Mark Twain