Don’t Let the Flowers Fool You
You would think…after seeing this…
…that spring was here or at least just around that proverbial corner.
Well, I have news for you. Spring is still in bed. Covers over her head. Snoring so loudly she’s shaking snow from the clouds. Dreamland for Ms. Spring while Mr. Winter bellows on loudly and wildly, heavy boots and all.
We trudge on. One wet step after one cold step after, dare I say it, one snowy step. Gretchen tells me that years ago, before I was the center of the universe, she and Ann went on vacation in Mexico during an April break. It was warm and sunny there (as you can imagine) so when they got home, they couldn’t believe when the plane landed in a snowy Seattle.
It’s only March now and that was April, but I have to admit the story doesn’t give me much hope. “Could that happen again?” I asked Gretchen as we hiked through the muddy cold trails of Leschi Park.
I don’t mind snow, but I want REAL snow not this white rain that stings my eyes and never sticks to anything but my curls.
Or I want warm spring weather with blue skies, white puffy clouds, and the colors of flowers in bloom.
This middle-earth-seasonal madness is, well, maddening.
Wind that makes our ears flap around…
Rain that makes everything muddy…like my whiskers…
Downpours that makes it difficult to take photographs…or worse, requires raincoats…
And cold cold cold temperatures. Ice on the porch. Icy wind. Days when we have to turn up the thermostat in the house to ward off frozen feet.
Yes, I’m complaining. Yes, I’m complaining about the weather. This is something Seattlites don’t do. It’s something visiting Californians do — complain about our weather — but it should not be something we do. And yet here I am doing it.
Sigh (again, only deeper and more forlorn).
Gretchen keeps telling me to buck up. “Spring is less than a week away!” she says with fake enthusiasm. “In like a lion, out like a lamb!” She shouts at me while putting on her long underwear, her wool socks, layers of shirts and sweaters, her snow boots, and her down coat under her rain gear.
Oy. And sigh. And oy again.
Through it all we keep working. Rosie and Tyson. Monty and Woobie. Roux, too. They all wanted to join Spring under her warm, downy covers. I want to join her too, but Gretchen says, “Dog walkers stop for no weather!” which feels grammatically incorrect but I’m too cold to tell her otherwise and she says, “Momma’s gotta put food on the table!” which makes me feel guilty for eating, and “Soon I’ll be wearing shorts and you’ll be swimming in the lake!” which makes me moan and go searching for the warm blanket on the couch.
I think I need to go find more of these…
These give me hope that this moody weather is merely a bad dream (a long one, but just a dream!)