Without fail, this point in February finds me staring at my calendar wondering when I can reasonably abandon the wearing of Winter tights, heavy coats, wool sweaters, scarves, and mittens. In November and December, I love these clothing items and gather them near with pleasure. In January, I tolerate them out of their obvious utility. But in February, my resentment builds. Far earlier than makes any sense, I begin to contemplate abandonment of my cold weather clothing.
A reasonable woman would check out the weather forecast and refuse to set aside her Winter clothing until daytime temperatures are reliably in the 60s. I am not that woman. Without fail, I will declare an arbitrary end to the Winter clothing season. I can usually wait until March for my unilateral declaration of Spring but there are no guarantees.
I’m no longer bemused by the prospect of snow in the forecast because snow will make flip flops seems like a foolish footwear choice. I’ve begun too long for pastel sweaters and scarves, which I believe March will warrant. I’m busily counting the remaining days of tights and heavy, dark Winter coats. As usual, my imagination is untethered by reality. One hopes my pride will keep me warm.
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