Spring, that is. Where did it go?
I mean, the trees were blooming. The daffodils were swaying in the breeze. Pollen was beginning to drop from the trees in great yellow clouds. Birds were singing all hours of the day and night. The sky was clear and the days were full of mild breezes. People started swapping out their boots for sandals and their sweaters for t-shirts.
It was atrocious.
Winter came back today. Granted, it was bone-chillingly cold and wretchedly damp—but then there was the glorious warmth of the classrooms and the necessity for tea. This was a good day to start reading Dante’s Inferno—if there can be such a thing as a good day to start reading that book. All of my spare time today was spent reading, with the pleasant sound of rain tapping at my window. When I did have to walk through the rain, though, I was pleasantly reminded of winter and felt a little more cheerful again.
…okay, yeah. I’m weird.
Rain does make it difficult to get from point A to B. And there’s nothing fun about having toes so cold and wet that you can’t feel them. But having a legitimate reason to sing “Singin’ in the Rain” is delightful. Whistle it, if you can, loudly enough to show the rain and the wind that you don’t care how hard they blow. If your sunshine’s on the inside, it doesn’t matter anyhow.
There’s a poem in there somewhere.