At the beginning of each March, I wistfully reflect on the winter and think about those things I think I'll miss: the anticipation of two-hour delays, flipping the switch to light our gas fireplace, Williams-Sonoma's heavenly peppermint hot chocolate that, as much as I try, is still not quite as heavenly as the free sample in the Squirrel Hill store that one time I was convinced I needed to take home three canisters...And then come days like today. They just sneak up on me, right when I'm starting to think that I have some backward form of SAD and am destined to write songs about only being happy when it snows and blows and creates drifts 17-feet-high in the Wal-Mart parking lot. But then these days tiptoe in and envelope me with their sweet lilac and hyacinth breath, shyly hinting at lightning bugs, freckled skin, and Moscato sipping in my favorite Adirondack chair.
That's all it takes. I'm done. Winter who? Oh, her. Meh. I really kinda did think she was a bit too frigid, anyway.
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