Spring Fever, that is.
I know, I know. It’s too early to have spring fever here in Yankeeland. I’m sure I’m setting myself up for disappointment, declaring springtime the first week of March, but my southern roots get me every. single. time. I know this weather is just a tease. After 15 years in Philadelphia, you’d think I’d get the memo.
Every year when November rolls around, I hunker down and prepare myself for five months of winter. Or maybe six; even April in Philly is dicey. In a weak attempt to manage my expectations, I tell myself just to expect winter weather right into April. I mean, just a couple of years ago we had SNOW on EASTER.
Hahaha, the first time I typed that sentence, I accidentally typed SNOT for SNOW. That made me giggle. I’m such an adolescent.
No matter how much I try to prepare myself for the fickle spring of the northeast, I can’t help but get my hopes up that first week of March when it hits 55 and it’s light out at 6:30 am. I think I might have even heard a bird tweeting outside my window this morning.
Yesterday I couldn’t resist diving into the attic to pull out some spring clothes and then going through the kids’ closets, performing my first round of seasonal purging. I even had the audacity to pack away snow suits and heavy sweaters. I’m sure I’m just jinxing myself and everyone who has the misfortune of living within a 100-mild radius of my optimism, but I couldn’t stand one more minute of the clutter in our laundry room.
I KNOW I’m setting myself up for disappointment, but I feel like spring might. just. be. around. the. corner. Look what I found in my yard just this morning!
A girl can hope, can’t she?