By Lorry Myers
I was lulled into thinking that it was never going to happen. Even though the calendar told me one thing, the weather report was saying something else. Winter just kept hanging out, like a drunk that doesn’t want to leave the party. The sky would turn sunny and I would be hopeful but then frost would show up on my daffodils and coat my windshield.
Winter wasn’t leaving.
Then, from forty degrees to ninety degrees, we skipped right over spring and landed on the fringe of summer. I woke up and my grass is green and so are my trees. Windows are open and lawn mowers are mowing and I smell a neighbor barbequing.
Still, I am not convinced.
I hang up my coat and kiss it goodbye for the summer only to pull it back out go again. I’m still wearing wooly socks and I still have winter gloves in my glove box.
It has been a long winter.
“When are you going to buy plants for your planters?” my husband asked from across the breakfast table.
“What?” I asked, suddenly confused, like I had just woke up from a long winter’s sleep. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s the middle of May, time to plant.” Randy said. “Why don’t we do that today?”
“What?” I said again, not really expecting an answer. “What happens if it frosts or snows or hails like it did last week? Seven days ago I was wearing a winter coat, I’m not ready for flowers!”
For the complete column, please see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.