Again, the shortest month of the year feels like the longest. Oh, February, why? Why?
Cold, dreary, gray, snowy, windy.
It happens every year, but it didn’t used to be so awful. Of course, that was before moving to the Midwest and discovering what real winter feels like. I gotta say, I don’t much like it.
I know I have plenty of companions in my complaining about February. Some people get through it better than I do. A former coworker would look out my office window at the February bleakness, snow piling on the sidewalk, gray clouds overhead, barren trees bending in the icy and unrelenting breeze, and he would say, at least it’s February. Spring is almost here.
I try to keep that in mind as I’m winding my heavy scarf around my neck and chin, slipping on my gloves and mentally preparing to face February out of doors. I bite my lip, and I get through it. But I’ll tell you this, I won’t be sad when February is over.