you come here often?

I think I have amnesia.
I think I am an 80 year old trapped in a 20something body.
I am shocked, each year anew, when I am directed to spring forward and instantly it is light until 7:30.
This is great! Well, except that's usually when I'm getting ready to go to bed. Now my eyelids set with the sun and it's marvelous to enjoy daylight it really is but well, I have to be up so early anyway and I was just getting excited to have my 5am Drake run be without my flashing headlamp and dayglow vest and here we go again (again?) my mornings are a cold dark shuffle and I can hardly keep my eyes open on the drive to work.
Springing has really hit me hard this year. Usually I love to spring! But I just forgot all about it and it truly is taking me by surprise. It was warm enough today to put the windows down on the drive home and I truly (because sometimes I exaggerate) had the thought "OH YEAH! Summer here is AWESOME."
I had forgotten.
The light at the end of my tunnel is almost here and I completely forgot how much I usually crave it.
Because March, yes March, usually beats us to a pulp around here. Not to say that it hasn't, but somewhere amidst the madness March throws us little reminders that it too, shall pass. And maybe my punishment for not believing in March is an excessive amount of tiredness. Perhaps I have offended March by continually assuming the worst of him (March must be a him, right?)
Some day, not too far off, I will be warm OUTSIDE and the snow will melt and I will go to bed after the sun. And I will enjoy it. And I won't be worn down by it.

And then next year. NEXT year. I'll remember that it's not so bad.
Although, I'll probably forget to remember.
So remind me, would'ya?

SNOW DAY

Turns out those little white flakes had a plan.

If you look closely you can see the 3' tall snowbank at the end of the driveway and if you look even closer you can see my neighbor not offering to help me out with his snowblower.

Keep Calm and March On

What IS it about March? Good grief.
The rain that slammed onto the church roof this morning has given way to one inch white flakes.
Vermont's reminder that spring is nowhere to be sprung.
At least not for another two months or so.

I rather enjoy the amnesia I get every year.
I delight in the later sunsets and I groan at March's cold temper.
It was a year ago, on an unseasonably warm day in March that I looked at the kitchen wall and declared it must be yellow.
With the hopes of moving by the summer, I wonder if on the next warm day the urge to paint will have us covering the cheery lemon with snowy white.
The same snowy white that is falling from the sky. Keeping us in a shadow of winter.
I forget, as a often do, if I will make it through this bleak month with my sanity intact.
It will be a lovely surprise if so.