Whither winter?

This has been a bummer of a winter. I love me some white fluffy snow, even into May. I don't mind wearing a parka and I love mother-knit mittens. Hot cocoa is the drink du not only jour, but la saison aussi. (No, I don't know French. Except for the one line I remember from second grade when I was allowed to take French lessons instead of spelling: Dans la maison.... and then something about le salon)

But if it's been a bummer of a winter, at least the bummer is in the form of wispy warmy breezy hazy not too sunny sunshine. So the bummer is a good kind of bummer.

I felt so late springy that I wore my summery bracelets, TWO of them even. I like to wiggle my wrist and hear the beads chatter on my wrist. I feel like wearing flowery cotton skirts and single knit t-shirts and a big floppy hat. And leather sandals.

The bummer of this bummer winter is that the flowers aren't blooming yet. "It's the middle of March!" they say, "It's like your alarm clock going off at 3 a.m. and the world expecting you to be awake and ready to put on a show.  Give us a few weeks and we'll be awake and ready to please your eyes and nose."

Matt just said next winter better be good or we're moving to Siberia. I'd better start packing just in case.