Spring Snow

I'm probably the only New Englander who welcomed today's snowstorm. Those giant flakes were pretty. I don't know why everyone was grumbling — it's not like they had to shovel, or find a broken chair to protect their parking space.

These sunny-side Marlborough Street crocuses can survive today's snow.

I was the one complaining when the temperatures hit 70 on Friday — the only one. I wasn't prepared to abandon my beloved turtleneck sweater and boots. Flip flops are my only alternative to boots for long walks, and they require some gradual muscle conditioning before I can walk in them all day. But on Friday, I put 'em on and walked 4 miles; it was hot. I still feel it in my lower calves.

I also got a sunburned head; I had packed my baseball cap and straw hats away with our summer clothes. The weather has no business being that warm until there are leaves on the trees to shelter us from strong sunlight.

It's obvious that I'm still in recovery from last summer's terrible, too-long heatwave, and the thought of sweating in sunshine any time soon makes me grouchy. My husband recently pointed out that I would want to retire somewhere chilly, like Maine, while he would want to retire somewhere warm, like Florida.

Florida? The horror! It's a good thing neither of us will ever retire (assuming I find a job to retire from.) I won't be able to afford to retire, and he loves his work too much to ever give it up.

On a brisk day, I look forward to walking a few miles, and then I like coming home, roasting a chicken, and simmering a pot of soup. I can't do that during the long, hot summers. In August, I just sit around, reading listlessly, drinking iced tea, eating cookies. Heck, I can do that in any weather. That sounds like a good idea right about now, even with soup on the stove. Bring on the cookies and iced tea.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.