Saturday, February 26, 2011
There have been lots of posts this winter about how wearisome it is enduring all the cold weather and snow. There are those of us who just plain hate cold weather. I for one hate having my hands get like sandpaper. I can’t put on hose or synthetic socks without snagging them, and I can’t keep the dry flaky skin off my face. I was going to try one night cream a friend highly recommended, but when I saw the price tag, I thought I could live with what I’ve got a little longer. The dismal days are the worst of all, especially when the whole weekend is gray and dreary. I don’t notice it so much during the week because I’m in a classroom for most of the daylight hours where the lighting is good.
I ran across this poem years ago, probably from some teachers’ source, and have pulled it out every February when I just don’t think I can stand winter another minute. My mother felt about winter as I do, and I wish I’d thought to send the poem to her every February. I think she would have appreciated it. So for those of you who are more than ready for spring, this is for you.
By Adeline D. T. Whitney
Will winter never be over?
Will the dark days never go?
Must the buttercup and the clover
Be always hid under the snow?
Ah, lend me your little ear, love!
Hark! 'tis a beautiful thing:
The weariest month of the year, love,
Is shortest, and nearest the spring!