I am not sure what I am seeing is the true view of the waning winter world around me or if waking with a headache has warped my view this morning. Looking outside, I see a dreary world, brown and battered. Surveying the yard around my house, I see small, scattered, dirty piles of snow, dehydrated weeds and grass, and even the sky is wearing a non-color robe of skim milk.
I can’t figure whether I am just weary of the cold and wanting the warmth of spring or whether it is reality. I am so tired of hearing the raucous calls of the jays and the crows. I want to hear the robin sing, the wrens warble, and the humming birds’ wings whir. I want to feel the green grass caress my feet and toes.
I want to be able to stop hauling in wood for the wood burner and haling out the ashes. I need it to be the time to store the snow shovels and close the salt bin. I want to wash and store the winter coats, the gloves, hats, and the gloves. I don’t want to see another snow flake and especially not any icy patches in the driveway.
Winter has worn out its welcome. The cold and snow has to go. It is time. Is it cabin fever, my old age, or the thump on my head talking, I am not sure.