Today is February 14th, Valentines day. I actually hate Valentines day- I think it’s silly and made up, but my old nemesis weather obviously loves me, because he gave me the one thing that is sure to warm my black heart: 67 degrees. At 12:14 on 2/14, it is 67 degrees. I’m wearing a light sweater and I’m too warm. This is what I missed.
Having spend the last three Februaries (Februarys?) in the cold tundra that is Massachusetts, I can’t tell you how welcome this is. We’ve had snow, for sure, but they have been little more than dustings. Absolutely nothing compared to the inches and feet and months and months of grey, grimy piles on the side of the road that I had come to know. Fare the well!
February was always the worst month for me. Growing up in Alabama, February was when spring started to show itself. It would still be cool, sure, but there were buds and new green leaves starting to peek out. Something to remind you that winter wouldn’t hang on forever until you all suffocated under the weight of your sweaters and scarves and hats (yes, we wore those- even in Alabama). And then I moved to Massachusetts and February came and went with nary a break. There were usually snow storms to remind you that it wasn’t over yet. It was April before the snow was good and gone and the dirt started to thaw. And by April I was broken and miserable.
But Virginia! Virginia with crocuses and 67 degree Valentine’s days! I think I’m going to like it here…