Typical March day, this.When I got up this morning, it looked and felt like mid-January. Snow was coming down in huge, lacy flakes and the ground and rooftops were white. I loved it! But no longer than five minutes later, I did a double-take when I looked out and saw bright sunshine already melting the snow.
Everyone I know is rooting for winter’s end and spring’s beginning, while I’m hoping – just as intensely – for a little more winter weather.
I know I’m “different.”
I don’t understand it myself. I was born in April, a beautiful spring month. There's nothing quite like soft April showers and that wonderful scent they emit. And I adore the flowers that blossom in my birth month, especially lilacs. I can smell them in my memory long before they appear. Lilacs and I go way back!
When I was a child, we had a huge lilac bush in our yard. My mother always cut the delicate flowers as soon as they bloomed, put them into pretty vases filled with water and placed them in every room of the house. Our home was soon filled with a lovely aroma that lasted for weeks.
But even with great memories like that one – and many more – I continue to prefer fall and winter over spring and summer. Who knows why? It would take a psychiatrist to figure it out.
I could move to Siberia. Or Alaska. But I'd surely get bored if every day were the same. Guess I'll just stick around and see what else March has in store for us.
Besides, as fast as time passes, it’ll be October again before we know it!