Winter, You Lame-Ass Cold Thing

I know it comes every year. I know it’s because the earth tilts away from the sun. I know all of that but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Yesterday, talking to a friend I said: I still wish for shorter winters, and he said: You’re a bit too far north for that!

Arg. Grimace.

On Saturday I saw a sign at the Farmer’s Market, the last market of the year, that said: ” See you the first weekend in May!” The month of May. That is SEVEN MONTHS away. You know they have a market at the first opportunity so that means the very first possible chance of standing around outdoors for any stretch of time is officially in May. Seven months. Seven f-ing months.

Yesterday as I geared up for a dog walk I reached for my puffy coat, which even through the warmth of summer still hangs on the coat rack because Winter always jumps up out of nowhere without any warning, and I almost cried. Because it meant it is cold and it also means that I will be wearing that same coat from now until eternity. Basically the same outfit for seven months. That is worth crying over.

For the last part of spring, all of summer, and the first part of fall, the entire town has been our playground. Any scrap of grass, any stretch of river. If you loaded up the stroller with enough snacks and water you could conceivably stay out all day, moving from one kid friendly locale to another. But not anymore. Yesterday, heading home from the coffee shop, Echo wanted to stop for a moment and watch the football players grunt out some plays. Ordinarily this would mean a relaxing slump on a grassy knoll, but instead with Winter’s arrival, it meant a miserable crouch behind a ponderosa, a face scrunched, shoulders hunched, test of endurance. And I failed. I finally convinced her to climb back in to her sheepskin and blanket, the cozy den of a stroller, and grimaced our way swiftly back home.

Sigh.