Back in the fall, I couldn't wait for it to start snowing. Now, I can't wait for it to stop. Yes, I know I'm whiny.
But certainly you'll all agree snow is long past its due date. Easter should not, does not mean snow. Snow's expiration date is a calendar flip or two ago.
Yet here we are. Linds and I are in Pennsylvania for the holiday weekend, and today we saw at least three instances of snow flurries. Nothing really stuck to the ground to any measurable degree, but that's not really the point. It's Easter, and it's snowing.
And this doesn't offer much help either. Sunny and 62 sounds like a bargain at this point - even though it's still nine days away. (And Lord knows how much the forecast will change between now and then.)
Yes, I know I could fall back on my old line about how it's almost always better to be here, no matter how crappy, than Barrow, Alaska - where the high over the next 10 days will top out at 12 above. But that doesn't feel right, not this time. The folks in Barrow know what to expect in their season(s), and we know what to expect in ours. At least they're getting what they expect.
It's not just the agonizing wait for spring to brighten our moods, either. I won't be able to go 10 days without covering something, and that something is virtually guaranteed to be outside. Like Wednesday night when I'm supposed to go watch the Potomac Nationals. Or whatever else comes along - high school baseball, the big Nats, whatever. It'll be outside.
And by then, we'll be pressing into the second week of the major league baseball schedule. Snow delays and postponements are supposed to be quirks of the first week of the schedule; after the second Sunday night game, we should see some light - and feel some warmth - at the end of the tunnel.
Even the poor cherry blossoms are suffering, as you can see in the Reuters photo above from Yahoo.
None of us benefit from the extended cold. I honestly believe few of us benefitted from the unusual warm streak we had over the winter; it felt too surreal to be enjoyed. (The one positive from this whole deal is that it confirmed my suspicion that Mother Nature wasn't going to give us a free pass, even for a week. Vengence would be hers, and we're paying now.)
This is the time of year when the only thing I want to do is cover a game in jeans and a polo. Is that so much to ask?
This year, apparently it is.
(Apologies for the spacing issues.)