I’m tired of dog’s muddy footprints.
I don’t like to complain and grouse.
Why won’t people remove wet shoes
when they’re coming into the house?
Instead of just orchids blooming,
and the green leaves of plants inside,
I want to see leaves on the trees
and sunlight and flowers outside.
In time spring and summer will come,
since I know it happens each year,
but I’m so tired of boots and coats
I just wish spring would hurry here.
I browse through garden catalogs,
ordering both plants and seeds, too,
forgetting I’ll soon have complaints
of too much gardening to do.
Yeah, I’m tired of winter so much so that I wrote a rather simple rhyming poem, something I rarely do. Most of my poetry is more complex with a message without whining and complaining. But I guess it’s just how I’m feeling these days.
In the beginning I embrace winter; Christmas – hopefully a white one – with the ringing bells of Salvation Army people with their red buckets collecting for the needy. All except for the most parsimonious bah humbug people seem to be more generous at the beginning of winter. We donate to the poor with money, food, warm clothes, and we feel good about ourselves and our generosity. Then after all the hustle bustle of the holidays; Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Years, we relax into a quieter time. For those of us in the northern climates, it’s a time of hibernation, a time of unwinding. I get more writing and reading done.
But then comes February and it seems like winter will never end, especially this year. Enough already! We mumble and complain to others. Was it Punxsutawney Phil? Maybe it’s his fault this has been one of the worse winters in years. More snow, bitter cold, and an inability to go on my daily walks in the woods has me frustrated. Yes, I did get more writing done, but nothing much else. Instead, of bustling about the house cleaning and organizing, a sort of lethargy has set in. I just don’t feel like cleaning. I could be going through my stacks of garden catalogs that started coming last October, but why? Maybe spring won’t come this year, although a few weeks ago on a rare almost balmy day when the snow started to melt for a few hours, I did hear a bird sing. So we are nearer to spring than we were in January, at least. Just maybe it will come.
|Maggie is not happy with the frozen snow on her legs.|
And there have been good things. My furnace continues to send out heat. A friend of my son’s plows my driveway every time there’s more than an inch of new snow. My electricity hasn’t gone out – at least so far. My canary continues to sing, especially after I give him his daily treat of broccoli or when I wash clothes or run the sweeper.
I enjoy watching the birds at my feeders, although not so much the raiding squirrel. Although it takes six to seven miles before my car starts to warm up, it never fails to start as soon as I turn the key. I don’t spend much time on the phone, but there are more times now as my friends and family compare weather complaints and we talk and laugh about a lot of other things, too. When I meet with my two book clubs or writer’s group, there seem to be more smiles going around as well as laughter, because in some ways, we are all survivors of this winter and share a special bond because of it.
How do you feel about winter?