Remember how excited I was yesterday? I could smell Spring in the air. Do you also remember the last sentence I wrote? No worries. I’ll refresh your memory: “Mother Nature can be a real bitch, you know.”
Well, she was certainly right on cue. Went to bed Tuesday night listening to howling wind. And I do mean howling. But there’s more. We also had a combination of swirling snow and rain. Went on all night. Was still going strong yesterday morning. Now we’ve got piles and piles and piles of heavy, ugly, dirty, messy, disgusting slush! Ponds at every street corner, too wide to jump across. So guess what?
Yep. No other choice but to wade through them. Up to your insteps, if not higher. Sidewalks are a royal mess. Roads are a royal mess. And God help us if it gets cold. Because it will all freeze; and then driving and walking will be absolutely hazardous.
So yes, Mother Nature can be a real bitch. She’s certainly proved it over the last two days. Can’t you hear her cackling? I can. And, while I’m no shrink, I think she’s also unstable. Hormonal at best. I wonder if she’s ever tried taking Evening Primrose Oil. Might be a good idea.
Can you do me a favour? If you’re talking to her, try suggesting it.
In the meantime …
Have you ever heard the expression, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched”? This here, is a perfect example. One day of mild, Spring-like temperatures on Tuesday and I was ready to pack up all my winter clothes. The heavy sweaters, the tights, the gloves. The hats, warm scarves and winter coats. The shawls, the cashmere and the fleece.
Yeah, baby. I was getting ready to move the sandals from the back of my closet. I was beginning to dream of bare legs; and, even nicer, bare toes. I don’t know about yours, but mine sure do like to be free. My toes. As in, not jailed inside a pair of socks, unable to really move, or breath.
So yeah, baby. No more socks, or stockings. But yes, to T-shirts and blouses, worn without jackets. Skirts, light enough to flutter in the breeze. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. Eating and drinking on patios. Sleeping with the windows wide open. Enjoying my morning coffee outside, on my balcony. Watching dogs play with their buddies in the parks. Watching moms push their toddlers, back and forth back and forth back and forth, in the playground swings. Hearing people laughing, as they walk around.
I was there.
I was ready.
Oh, was I ready.
Oh, I am ready.
Oh, I am SO very ready.
You know who, on the other hand, decided to play a nasty, little trick on me. To put me in my place. To keep me in my place. That’ll teach me to take her for granted. To jump the gun. To be presumptuous. To leap to conclusions. To think I know it all. To think I know anything. Ha!!
What a piece of work she is. Very much like Cinderella’s wicked stepmother, if you ask me.
But I’ll be damned if I let her think she’s won. I’ve gotten it out of my system and from here on in, I’m going to embrace the slush. Yes, I am. My rubber boots are waiting for me, by the front door. My umbrella’s in my bag. So’s a warm hat. The rest of my winter gear’s ready to be called up for duty.
Wet snow makes the best snowballs, you know. I can get into this. Sure I can. Mother Nature’s not the only one who can throw a good curve ball, you know. Care to join me?
This is my tempestuous love affair with March haha .Same thing here, spring was in full force for a couple of days, but back to sweaters and thick socks! 🙂
It blows 🙂
I feel for you! Here in the UK Nature can be very cruel as well: we often get a taste of summer in March and go back to winter for the next six months…
Hopefully it won’t be that bad here 🙂
I know what you mean! I’m so very ready for Spring, too!
(groan). Yes. Bring it on! Pleeeze.
Mother Nature asks “Why do you cover all my surfaces with this impenetrable tar? My daughter Earth and my son Rain used to commune so well together, now in great rage at their misfortune, she can no longer breathe sufficiently to allow her brother’s tears to drain away. And let’s not start on my other son whose bed you desecrate, my dearest Ocean, whose depths are being pillaged, and whose wounds seep black tears. Respect my sons and daughters and perhaps we can live in harmony once more.”
Amen to that!