Rubbing It in

I am fortunate to have Facebook friends from all over the mainland U.S. of A. , China and Korea.  They are in Vermont, California, Miami and everywhere in between.  I am blessed to know them all.

However, this time of year I am better served by hearing from Utah, where he's digging out from another snowstorm, or Massachusetts where Val is shoveling snow off her roof, or Georgia with its hundred-year blizzard.  When I woke up, it was barely ten degrees.  It is little consolation to see pics of the green of Cocoa Beach, the sands of South Carolina or to hear of the warmth of San Francisco Bay or Austin.

I mean this in the kindest possible way...knock it off, guys.

As we speak, the pond formed in our backyard from last week's rain has receded.  The skin of ice isn't thick enough to promote skating or the weight of my brute of a dog.  The vestiges of snow still mean I have to don boots to leave the house.  The pink fur coat is losing its appeal.

Come to the beach! says one.. Wish you were here!  says another.  Friends in Florida tell me how they had a "cold snap" (it was fifty). Come on, now.  Around here, we wear shorts at forty, tank tops at fifty and go swimming at sixty.  We have a Polar Bear Club, for Pete's sake.  They take the plunge into Lake Erie even if they have to auger a hole in the bay.

We do eventually get some summer. Pleasant sixties in May after the snow melts. Seventies in June. Eighties in July. A ninety thrown in on occasion.  Fruit has become genetically disposed to grow fast, although sometimes the blossoms get surprised by a frost. Our yards boast evergreens near the house to break the wind, and deciduous trees to let the sun shine on us in December and give us shade in July. We are a hardy bunch, us Yankees.  We cope.

As I leave for work, it is twenty-two.  It will inch its way up to forty. The brilliant white light of the sunshine bathes the mounds of snow that persist.  It looks deceivingly warm through the window.

I will come home to more of the same on Facebook--your heat waves and blue oceans, your balmy days and crystal-clear nights.  There are days I want to be there, basking in the fever of your climate.  It will be summer in Erie soon enough. Being blessed (or sometimes cursed!) with four seasons isn't so bad.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, Mr. Rogers.