I'm Hoping Shelley Is Right

In light of what the calendar says, far more so than what my window has been offering in recent days and weeks on this, the first day of Spring, I can continue to whine about the winter I so hope is really and truly over. Not nearly as much as I am over it.

If you live in most of these occasionally United States I know you know whereof I mewl. And sitting in the shelter of Long Island Sound I would not be surprised to learn we here in Southeastern Connecticut got off lighter than many others. We didn't get what we deserve, thank goodness, but certainly more than we bargained for.

And I also concede that none of cold weather kvetching will keep me from piteously bleating when the heat and humidity of August are here, because they never come on little cat feet but stomp right in wearing Size 44 Triple E jump boots. Where oh where will any of that polar vortex be when this happens? Your guess will be as good as mine.

I endorse the emotion that suggests worrying and complaining about the weather, while completely human and often humorous, is a waste of our time and talents. It will change nothing and dilute our enjoyment of the moment in which we find ourselves.

Now and Zen, I remember, "Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes and the grass grows by itself." Make a moment for yourself to take off your thirsty boots and stay very still for awhile so you can enjoy the shifting of the seasons in your own time and at your own pace.

Spring, the most hopeful of seasons, awaits. I hope yours will be everything you want, and most importantly, everything you need.
-bill kenny