I'm not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. Which is why when I woke up this morning, stumbled out of bed and saw snow, I had to rub my eyes, rub them again, and check myself for signs of full-blown dementia. Because when you see this:
and it's April, you think you've lost your mind. Now, I've been in Connecticut for almost 7 years. Seven rather long years of
sh$$ like this. I've told you all before, that first year, when it snowed on May 3rd, I thought, "Where the hell did he bring me?" (The he, of course, being Allen). But, it NEVER fails to surprise and irritate me when I wake up in April and see snow falling. Especially when they call it a "wintry mix," when clearly it is not mixed with anything, unless it's mixed with my absolute irritation. I was gardening Saturday! And tomorrow it's going to be 50 degrees.
This is why nature is superior to me. Because though my plants will be slightly confused, they will rebound much faster than my attitude will. And they ask me why I knit . . .
And bear with me because the spell checker is apparently frozen.