Thank goodness people have an infinite capacity for self deception. Every year I’m hopeful that a season called “Spring” will come.
You have heard the phrase, the promise of spring. I am starting to have a sinking feeling that we northerners should take this phrase more literally. After all, no one is saying that this particular promise will be kept. All frogs don’t turn into princes. For that matter, most tadpoles don’t turn into frogs.
And then there’s the groundhog. I think we should let the guy sleep in. His predictions have the accuracy of a Ouija board.
Here are the cold, hard facts. It is March. The air is freezing; the wind is cutting. The ground is hard as in frozen solid. Ice balls are falling from the leaden sky. The operative adjective is bleak not springlike.
But there is hope! April is coming. I will follow the advice of the poet, A. E. Housman. “About the woodlands I will go / To see the cherry hung with snow.”
I will completely forget that for most of my springs the snow on the cherries was the real thing.
(The complete A. E. Housman poem is here.)
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Since the absence of spring was one of the reasons I ran away to Arizona in the first place, I am expecting a huge influx of people from the midwest after this past winter. How did you manage????I know you will take full advantage of every nice day you get even if you have to wait till May to get one.