After two consecutive days of gentle spring weather, I started getting the urge yesterday to post an entry about the miracle of the seasons.
Only a week ago, I'd wanted to pound the chilly ground like a Morris dancer, exhorting Mother Earth to awake from her winter slumber and put forth her flowery finery.
And lo, on Monday Mother Earth did wake up, and the world began to hum. The daffodils grew taller, darling buds burst on tree branches, and in the air one smelt the sweet fragrance of looming abundance. "A thousand blessings on you, Mother Earth," I thought.
Of course, this is Chicago. So last night, a storm blew in. A big one. It's now about 38 degrees out, the flowers are trashed, the sky is slate gray, and there's a gale-force wind blowing the ice-cold rain around. This weather pattern is expected to persist for some days, right through the weekend.
So I've revised my original idea, and what I'd like to say to Mother Earth this morning is suck my weenie.