I’m tired of rain and the low, dark clouds and sodden earth that come with it. I’m tired of those swiveled brown leaves that cling to the bottom branches of oak trees even while the higher branches are sprouting new ones. I’m tired of watching green mildew paint itself over every wooden surface in my back yard. I’m tired of that breathless smell of compost that rushes into the garage every time I raise the door after another soggy night.
I feel like taking every piece of furniture in my house to Key West and spreading them out on the lawn of the Casa Marina Hotel in the bright sunshine for a week to burn off the dross of winter. If it were only warm enough I would go outside and scrub that milky-white film of salt and snow melting chemicals off of my cars with my bare hands.
If I have been reduced to this by the unrelenting gloominess of this interminable season, I can only imagine how my Dad must feel. Day after day he sits in his chair, covered with blankets in his hot house watching the news. His exposure to the weather is limited to a glance out of the window and our complaints. I’m taking him to one of his doctors tomorrow. I hope it’s sunny and warm. I want him to feel the sun on his face. I want to feel the sun on my face.
There has to be a reason for winter, if nothing else than to make us appreciate spring, to create in us an expectation of something better. April is nearly here. It will be better, warmer and it will bring life.
We need it.