I like snow. I even like driving in it. I like Winter. But this is just too much. Polar vortex, two blizzards … I don’t know whether to blame the Jet Stream or the fact that God hates Al Gore.
It was okay that I got my injury during time it made sense to stay home and rest. But I’m done. If it snows, I’m not going to shovel it. I took down the blueberry sandwich boards I made to protect them, took the brush out of my car (and back again), and now have too many coats of varying thicknesses on hand at all times. Every time we get the hint of warm weather, it’s just a tease. I took Pasha out for the first time this week — even sweating without a jacket — and the next morning there’s snow.
I don’t want Summer, just Spring. The backyard-sized ice rink is now a receding lake, and I want to put my rain barrels out. But I can’t guarantee they won’t freeze. I’m just glad we gave up on starting our vegetables from seeds this year — it just wouldn’t have worked even if I had the energy.
But I can’t even look outside when it’s snowing any more. I was driving a week or two ago and when it started to snow, I honestly thought to myself, “how much longer before we decide to move south.” I’ve never had such a notion before. I don’t know why it’s getting to me this year so badly, but it just is.