It Might as Well be Spring

There’s a wonderful, wistful song about spring and the restless longing the season brings in Rogers and Hammerstein’s musical State Fair. Some of the lyrics go like this:

I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,
In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.

This winter, one of the top ten snowiest on record in New England, has been interminable. I am so longing for spring. Unfortunately, here’s what spring looked like in front of my building yesterday:

Out my window...

Yes, those white flecks are gimungous snowflakes. Heavy sigh!

My mom has tormented me with descriptions of her blooming forsythia and my beloved beta reader has tortured me with tales of her crocus already pushing through the sod.

Now it’s your turn.

Send me a picture of spring outside your door (mia @  minus the spaces) and I’ll post it here tomorrow. If you can beat New England in the crummy weather department, send that too. Misery loves company!

Even though the weatherman has promised us today will be the last day the temps creep into the 40’s–if you can believe it, we’re supposed to turn colder with MORE SNOW and lower than average temperatures for the rest of the month–I’m trying not to be discouraged. I did see a pair of robins this morning.

I only wonder if Mrs. Robin will be saying, “I told you we should have stayed in Wilmington till after Easter!”

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