The one where I shake my fist at the sky!
We seem to have a failure to communicate. You think it's going to be spring tomorrow. Spring. You know, that season where the forsythia bloom bright yellow on the bushes. Where the crocus poke their purple heads out of the ground looking for precious sunlight. Where buds form on the trees and the grass turns a soft green after a winter of brown covered by a thick cold blanket of white. Spring, where shrubs bloom with lilacs and gardens are filled with hyacinth, tulips, and daffodils. Spring, the time of year where the weather turns warmer and people shed their winter jackets and line up along the banks of the river for a bit of vitamin D therapy.
Not freaking Winter v2.0.
We are tired of ugly black coats. We are sick of wearing boots outside. We do not want to put on layers of clothing anymore. We do not want our skin to glow with the light of a thousand watt bulb from lack of sunshine. We are tired of creaky bones, sniffling noses, headaches from clogged sinuses, and the constant feeling of cold hands and feet.
Enough already. Enough.
We need color. How much more dull brown and gray can we take? We need blue skies, green grass, and multi-colored flowers. Pronto, toronto.
We need the world to smell like something other than dog poop left over from the snow bluffs created by the plows. The gorgeous scent of French lilacs and rosemary would be nice.
We need to stick our hands into soil and start to garden. Soil, not mud.
Most of all, we do not need more cold. We do not need any more snow. We need warm days and cooler nights. We need sunshine. Lots and lots of sunshine. The gift of life, remember?
Because if this crapola weather continues, you and I are through. Stumble It! JBlog Me