Lousy Smarch Weather

I'm well aware of March.

All year long, I am completely and totally aware that the month March exists. I also know with no doubt that March is a cold long winter month here in New England. I know with utmost certainty that it is always a surprise when you are struggling through a treacherous February that you still have that long and windy month of March to get through before things start to ease up on you, weather-wise.

Yet here I am, in the midst of February, and I CAN'T BELIEVE that we still have March to get through. Every year it's the same thing and yet every year I can't freakin' believe it.

That's the beauty of living in an area of extreme seasons. They are so long and so all-encompassing that you really can forget what it is like on the other side of the calendar. Here, right now, in the thick of a salt-covered frozen gray February, the very idea of green trees and flowers and crickets and humidity seems completely impossible. I don't know how I got so stupid but the thrill is that each season feels brand new to me.

Except for right now. Right now winter is feeling really old, callously unforgiving, and relentlessly unrelenting. Even the mailbox outside looks like it's suffering.

(ask me again in ten minutes and I'll tell you how much I love the winter.)