I’ve had it with you. Not that I don’t love your snowy fields of peace and pizzazz in late December, the wicked winds that announce how wild the weather can be that come during the blizzards, the first few snow days and the little thaws that punctuate January before the cold fronts return.
But it’s almost April already, and this is overkill. The birds are tired. The squirrels are tired. The dog is tired. And I’m tired of waking up cold, looking outside to see a cloud-saturated cold day and all the little eager blossoming things burnt by the icy nights.
I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here: I willingly accepted it was your game from about mid-November through mid-March. I didn’t put the down coats away early. I paid the propane bills without a fuss. I even scoffed at the little thaw day in Vermont when the icicles started melting, but hey, already, can’t you knock this off?
Maybe you could just give us another 10 degrees of warmth and a little sun? Maybe you can bow gracefully and do a pirouette toward the Southern Hemisphere? Maybe you would say, “Okay, I get it, and I’m out of here”?
Then I could say, “Thank you, have a great journey, and come back with stories to tell us next November.”
One of your many subjects