The new year is well underway. It has been a while since my carpals showed an urge to suffer any typing not directly related to our mutual survival. The past several weeks have either been cold or colder. Below a point, the temperature becomes just an irrelevant statistic, having no bearing on how cold you feel. Of course! one can only wax philosophic about the temperatures and such, when one needs bear it only for a few minutes at most in any day.
A Minnesota winter does have its own stark beauty. With snowflakes of a million shapes and sizes sashaying down from their heavenly abodes. The landscape devoid of all but the dullest colors, is washed over in white snow - as if to prepare a canvas for the riot of colors and life that is spring. One can really appreciate the liveliness of spring after a dull, gloomy winter.
But when it gets to the mid of February, one kind of starts getting impatient for spring and the ongoing sojourn of the platinum blonde - Jane Frost, begins to seem like a mini ice-age.
One begins to get skeptical about the existence of global warming and then hopes fervently for it to make its presence felt.
I still aver my original love for Autumn, but right now a juicy ripe strawberry melting in the mouth, with all its promise of warm - even hot, long summer days is all that I can think of.
After all, why endure an unpleasant reality when you can conjure up utopia ... and then improve upon it :-)
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