What a tease we have here with Spring. Usually she’s so very dependable; right when we’re starting to cast glances too full of longing toward photos of warm-weather locations and sighing over memories of sun-soaked afternoons spent with our feet on warm asphalt and grass tickling our bodies as we lay down in the comfortable embrace of Summer, Spring appears with a laugh and a caress. I suppose it’s this laughing nature of her’s that should never let us forget her coquettish ways. This year, she seems sullen. Instead of letting her flirt with us, we are impatiently tapping our feet. Looking at our closets still stacked with winter boots and hats and scarves, some gloves maybe mismatched as we started to put them away in anticipation of warmer days, but then hurriedly pulled them back out as we realized that winter wasn’t quite finished with us. We sit sighing in a resigned fashion, much in the manner of one who keeps glancing at his or her watch waiting for a lover who is far too late, wondering if that lover has found some place much more worthy of his or her time forgetting all about the date planned, leaving fresh flowers and glasses of velvety wine and a worried lover waiting.
This year, there hasn’t even been any coquettish teasing. Warm days and cool nights have been replaced this time with snow piles that have barely started melting before they get re-built with fresh drifts and new layers. Men are keeping their beards, but have razors at the ready, hoping that winter will soon leave us so we can finally start remembering summer.