For a long season of my life, during younger years, the winter’s chill never arrived soon enough, waxed cold enough, nor lasted long enough.
But that was then.
This past week we endured one of those gray, sullen, steely-cold Gulf Coast dead-of-winter spells. I’m watching the thermometer this morning rise out of the thirties for the first time in two-and-a-half days of bone-numbing cold, blustery winds, dreary episodes of rain and grimy mist, and depressing winter gloom. I’ve had enough. How people up north deal with the dark and cold so much more severe than this, I can only wonder.
But alas. We’re in the climatological dead of winter right now, so the flickering promise of spring looms on the horizon of hope. Just a few more chilly weeks, and we’ll all feel better about longer, happier, warmer days.