I love the seasons...

but I must be honest, I hate February.  Particularly, I hate the last two weeks of February.    By the time summer ends, I’m ready for Autumn.  I love the first six weeks or so of winter, the sweaters, warm woolen socks, the luxuriousness of cuddling up with an afghan and a warming libation.  But right about now the afghan starts to feel itchy and I long for the sharp coolness of a tart beverage.  I know that within a few weeks, a pinkish green fuzz will begin to replace the stick brown barrenness currently coating the earth around me.  But, right now, I’m feeling the dry, crackling and restless of February’s end.

I did find a poem today which sort of describes my feeling about, but the language is rather indelicate and some may find it offensive.  Ezra Pound’s, “Song” now occupies space in my “Poem’s I Like” document. 

(What?  You don’t have one of those? Maybe you should.)

If you’re feeling adventurous, try googling…but you’ve been forewarned.

At any rate…I am ready for spring….

Comments

[Julie]

I saw a few green stems poking out of the ground at the library yesterday!!!!

[Laura]

Yay!

[Ian]

Hi Laura; hope and pray you are well -- and that warmer weather has reached you.

A blessed Feast of the Ascension for tomorrow! [it is tomorrow here already ;)]