We're having a cold stretch of days here in Southern New England after a promise this time a week ago that Spring was right around the corner. I wanted to believe it but didn't because I'm old and wizened and a wise-ass if not actually wise.
Some of my wife's crocuses in the side yard were fooled, I fear, as they were above ground and open earlier this past week but when I looked at them on Saturday morning as our temperatures in the sun hovered at around twenty, they were being brave even if they looked a bit bent and beaten.
We had no snow accompany this current wave of arctic air and I'm grateful for that, as this time last year we had both cold and snow. I'm treading carefully since I have a well-deserved reputation as a whiner but I see no need to pad my resume.
The calendar says just a few more weeks of winter (and a bit longer for Lent, but that's the stuff for another time) and we can put all of this in our rear-view mirror as we make top speed for the days of Endless Summer that seem to anyway. I think knowing, or believing you know, an end is in sight can make the current progress of the journey, no matter how halting, feel more bearable.
"Wait all year for the parting shot, for the epilogue,
For the moment when it stops and the days fade away."