Lest you think I'm being a bit harsh by bringing out the big "H" word (not he!! people, hate. In our house the word hate is considered a bad word.), let me explain.....
As a good Canadian, I am happy to live with the winter months. I will put up with snow storms, snow squalls, snow-days, wind-chill, cold days, freezing cold days, and days that are so cold you can't even look outside.....you get the picture. And because I am Canadian I suck it up, take a deep breath, put on my big girl panties and just deal with it.
HOWEVER, by the time March rolls around, I expect a bit of a respite. In my twisted mind, March equals the end of winter. I don't care what some little rodent in Wiarton sees, March = the end of winter.
Now I'm not expecting balmy hot summer days in March (I gave up that day dream years ago). But I do have this irrational belief that by the time March rolls around we should start to see positive digits on the thermometer. The snow should be fully melted, or at the very least melting. The sun should be shining and we should start thinking about putting away the snow pants, mittens, boots and hats for another year.
And of course, every March I'm disappointed. Old man winter comes right to my door, knocks, and then laughs in my face as he pelts me with a snowball. Because every March it's still cold, grey, and bloody well snowing. Every March I fall into a funk because clearly it is too much to ask for a bit of warmth. For a bit of time when you can go outside without your coat zipped up and have your nipples perform a 21 gun salute.
Sigh.
I hate the end of February and the beginning of March.
To make up for this I'm going to look at these pictures, and put myself in my happy place.
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