With the forecast predicting a possible 4-8 inches of heavy, wet snow; or wait, perhaps the other weatherman just said 8-12 inches, I am dreaming of my warm, balmy days of summer. Like many other hardened New Englanders, by the time I reach March, I am done with winter. Old Man Winter, we have put up with you since November, so it is time to pack your bags and move on along to the other hemisphere. Capiche?
Who's with me? Let's start a lynch mob on kicking the snow, the ice, the artic temperatures and everything else that goes along with winter right on out of here.
I am dreaming of summer days:
- Long days of supremely warm rays of sunshine, the rays that naturally bleach my hair to various shades of blonde without paying my beloved hairdresser every six weeks.
- Long days followed by steamy heat radiating off my driveway and warming my hot pink pedicured toe-nails (no worries, I am too cheap and do it myself).
- Long days not buried beneath layers of long sleeves and fleece coupled with more layers of fleece and sheepskin boots. Oh and winter jackets and stretchy mini-gloves. Who could forget the scarves?
- Long days with multi-layers of reapplied sunscreen with the smell of baked sunscreen coupled with fried skin (those who know me make fun of me for my 30 and 50+ sunscreen selection).
- Long days ended with friendship and smokey fire pits.
- Long weekend days lounging at the soccer fields with friends who have become next to family.
- Long weekends spent grilling, sharing a beer and swatting off mosquitos.
- Lazy days counting the dragonflies and saying hello to those I miss.
Inasmuch as I am not ready to bare this ghastly white skin, nor am I "bathing suit ready" (when the reality are we ever?!?), I am ready for longer days to come.
Somehow eating a tomato and basil salad for dinner comes easier when it's 70 degrees outside. Sure, the produce comes from a local farm and not shipped in from Colombia and gone are the hibernation needs to store comfort food on your thighs.
I am dreaming.....again, of another winter season coming to a close. Winter boots being stored in the far corner of my basement, mismatched gloves thrown in a box in the oft-chance they will find a mate miraculously over the summer months.
Days of flip-flops, shorts and bug spray have to be abound. Right?