Three weeks ago, she couldn’t wait to get outside into the snow.
Today, it began to snow again. Our streets have been clear, only big sandy piles of plowed snow left in places to remind us of the record-snowfalls we received over Christmas.
My daughter said, with conviction, “I am done with snow!”
My 10-year old son, on the other hand, is sorrowful that the snow is turning into rain already. The inch is melting into slushy water as we speak.
Personally, once January 1 hits, I am ready for spring. This is just one of many reasons why northern Michigan and I were incompatible. *One year we lived there the first snow fell in October and it was March before we saw the grass again. Six straight months of snow on the ground is about five and a half months too long, if you ask me. I want to see crocuses emerging from the February ground. I was to see trees budding by March. I want daffodils in riotous bloom by April.
One more day, then the kids go back to school on Tuesday and life as I have come to know it will resume.
*We lived in northern Michigan–look at your right hand; see your middle fingernail? Right about there–for four years. I have lived in the Pacific Northwest most of my life, with college and newlywed stints in Missouri, North Carolina and Connecticut, so northern Michigan was a foreign country to me.