It is March 17th, 2014. St. Patrick's Day, and it is 14.3 degrees outside at 7:30 AM.
The snow is still on the ground, and the ground is still frozen hard. No sign of Mud Season yet. The sap began to run when the temperature rose to the 50's a few days ago, but is most likely confused as heck right about now.
The snow cover in our backyard is slowly retreating like some ancient glacier only to loose ground to a "covering to an inch" of overnight frosty annoyance.
|The frozen landscape on Brookfield Road.|
This is my seasonal Monday morning whine. It is something that has to be done at least once each winter, and for the opposite reason, once each summer, or my head will explode. And, yes, I am from New England, and I should be used to this, so why complain?
Being used to something doesn't mean one has to like it.
Lately, I have been using my Trulia iPhone real estate app to seek out a little piece of warmth in Florida. Something to give refuge to this New Englander now, and again, and maybe a place to hide once retirement comes.
I never thought I'd consider becoming a "Snow Bird", someone that winters in warmer climes, and returns to New England in summer, but I am considering it. I think it may be something that naturally evolves as one grows older, or just grows tired of winter.
I am feeling myself evolving, and I would really like to smell some mud right about now.