"Maybe God gives us winter to more fully appreciate the splendor of spring and summer."
My loathing of this season is well documented. The wintry weather provides no snowy wonderland for me. It brings but misery and pain and inconvenience and finally, more pain. I have as of late wondered outloud why anyone would live in this inclement weather but for circumstances beyond our control. I repeat that same message today.
Winter is for Yankees, hockey players and polar bears. The list stops there. My golf clubs stand in solitary quiet in the corner of some dusty room awaiting their return to glory (or at the very least usage). I bought insulated underwear a few years back but they lack the fashion sense or BTUs to prove effective. In short, bah humbug!
Maybe God gives us winter to more fully appreciate the splendor of spring and summer. Throw fall in for good measure. Yet God has seemingly fallen deaf over my prayers and pleas to end this misery that befalls December, January and February. Enough already. Bring on the tulips and daffodils.
The Old Farmers Almanac says to begin your garden planting this week. Which only proves that sometimes, old farmers get it wrong too.
Here's the only upside to this winter and I'm stretching a point to find a positive where I truly believe none exists. This weather gives me a more favorable attitude toward those brave souls who are forced to provide for us this time of year. Take for example the road crews and the utility crews that make our lives easier by making their own more miserable. I watched this morning as the solid waste crews made their chilly morning rounds to remove what we leave behind without a passing thought. I wanted to offer them a hot cup of coffee but they appeared in no mood to stop. Arctic conditions will do that to you I guess.
Like a ritual rain dance, I've tried virtually every weapon at my disposal to coax improved weather. I'd dance naked at Main and Malone if I truly thought it would do some good. But that opens a whole other area of discussion that I'm unwilling to explore - thank you very much.
You'd think by now - after enduring 55 southeast Missouri winters - that I would have grown somewhat acclimated to the ebb and flow of the fickle weather in our part of the world. Instead I recall fondly those past winters where the heavy coat made its debut but once or twice at most. I yearn for those unique years when a sweater was sufficient for warmth. But alas, this year those days are but memories.
The calendar says a month from this week spring will arrive. It could not come soon enough.