Ugh, Snow.

I can still remember the excitement of the first snowfall this winter. The soft flakes that blanket the ground and make everything in life pause and hold its breath for this beautiful event. It transform the dull autumn world into a new one of pristine white and tranquility.

I have continued to enjoy the beauty and the snow; it's varied patterns, flakes, shapes, and forms.

But, it is February. My mind is turning to tiny chartreuse buds peeking out of soggy dark ground: of crocus, daffodils, and lilacs. I am pining for the green grass, the soft wet smell in the cool morning. I am wishing for sweaters and light jackets instead of parkas and mittens.

But, it is only February. Passed is the "warm" loving of Valentine's, and before me stretches four weeks before my birthday (celebrating the last day of winter) it is "officially" spring. The weather indicates old man winter has a strong hold on this month, and will probably claim most of March as well. I am eagerly awaiting maiden spring. Or at least just a little bit milder winter so I can play outside without my face and fingertips turning bright red; of tramping through snow and being warm from exertion instead of shivering from the icy wind that cuts through even my zipper.

It is only February. The longest month of the year. It holds all the teasing of spring to come, but retains so much of the harshness of winter. Ahhh, just a few more weeks of February.

But, I'm afraid I'll only feel gypped that March is no warmer.