Isn’t in March that’s supposed to come in like a lion?

I guess old Leo has a sense of humor, because he’s back on April Fool’s Day.  It’s blustery and wet, although not especially cold. 

When I moved here from Miami, everyone told me I wouldn’t be able to stand the winter.  They were wrong—I stood it just fine.  I was excited about every snow fall and even kind of enjoyed driving on slippery roads, as long as they weren’t crowded.  Hydroplaning can be fun, given the right mental attitude.

But, now that we’re in what is unofficially known as the Mud Season, like everyone else around these parts, I’m ready for Spring.

Spring officially started a couple of weeks ago, but the signs are slow in coming.  The jonquils and daffodils haven’t made an appearance yet, and the bare trees haven’t quite taken on the reddish cast that means they’re covered with buds.

The ground is mushy in that way that only happens when the top inch or two has thawed and the ground underneath is still frozen.   Because they don’t like walking on it, the cats are hanging out in the house, and there are serious territorial issues.  I’ve been serenaded with kitty/ninja noises for days.

This past Saturday, friends threw their annual party, where they spread beach blankets indoors in front of the fireplace and everyone is asked to wear beach clothes or something on a tropical theme.  I dutifully dug out sandals, baggy white linen pants, a Hawaiian shirt and a fake hibiscus for my hair.  The outfit looked odd against fish-belly-white skin, but what the heck.  I covered it all with a wool coat and stepped outside.

I almost froze on the way to the car.

Once there, it was fun.  They had heated up the inside of the house to a degree that the spoil-sports who had showed up in weather-appropriate clothing whined that they were overheated.  Poor babies.  We played reggae music and drank beer and ate guacamole.  It was a lot of fun.

Of course, by the time we left (well after midnight) the temperature outside had dropped fifteen degrees so, when we stepped outside, my girlfriend and I got a sobering reminder that it would be a good three months before we wore these outfits again.

Back to wool socks. *Sigh*