March is known for its wind, at least that’s what the local weatherman tells me. A cold wind gusting to thirty miles per hour drove snow pellets from a pigeon gray sky. The tiny specs of snow collected on my jacket, gloves, hat and my eye lashes. By the time I got around the block, down past Hagadorn’s, I’d given up on spring. “I’ll fix ya,” I threatened the sky. "In three weeks I’ll be in Hawaii again." So there. I can hunker down, and forget about spring altogether, by the time I get back in May, it will be spring. I shuddered remembering the May my sister got married. The leaves were not on the trees yet, a very late spring.
But to show my never ending ability to adapt to the situation, I laughed this morning when I stepped outside on my way to the library and said, "It's not that cold." 28 degrees. Geez.
Spring is the time of year when you finally get used to the cold of winter. I stepped out the door on Monday this week and thought how warm it was. I didn't even put my dog's jacket on him, the usually shivering Dalmation. We were both well acclimated by this week. When I got back and checked the thermometer on the birch tree out the kitchen window, it was 10 degrees!
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