April 9, 2013

Bring on the Snow!

It's officially Spring, although we woke up to a fresh coat of snow this morning.  I stood in front of a rack of pastel colored mix n' match clothes at the store the other day and just though no.  I don't want pastels and lightweight knits.  I want to keep my sweaters and my leg warmers and I refuse to wear pink!  Refuse!  So, yeah.  I'm not exactly ready for Spring just yet, and this morning's snow coat was just fine by me.  The kids, however, groaned when I woke them up cheerfully sing-songing, "Look out the window!  Fresh snow!"  They are apparently over it.

I will admit that I enjoyed getting to work in the garden, daily romps in the field with the dogs, and all of the other wholesome activities that Spring brings with it.  It's the sweaters and the warm soups and the gloomy cloud cover that I will miss.  I'm not ready for sunscreen and sunburns and swim suits and salads.  Not yet, anyway.  Spring means that summer is right around the corner and I don't have a single nice thing to say about summer.  Give me clouds!  Give me piles of blankets!  I am a happy camper when they skies are gray.  Sunshine makes me cry.  

Last Spring we went to the park at the mouth of the canyon to feed the ducks with the kids and there were college girls all sprawled out in bikinis on their towels sunbathing as I went back to the truck to get my snow coat.  Joe was so embarrassed.  But honestly, it's not as warm as you pretend it is when you're 19 and still looking to snag yourself a man.  When you're a college girl, you can pretend like you're so stinking hot in 67 degree weather that it's almost impossible to keep your clothes on.  But when you're in your 30's and you've found your forever guy, it's safe to admit that 67 is still chilly, especially in a breeze, and wear your coat.  

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Or maybe your thermoregulatory system doesn't fully kick in until your 30's, because my kids tend to strip down in freezing weather too.  On Easter Sunday we went to the reservoir to "fish."  What we call fishing is really about 4 minutes of holding a pole, followed by rolling up your pants and splashing around, scaring all the fish away, and then finally stripping fully down to your skivvies or swim suit and plunging into the freezing cold snow melt.   

SAM_3727I sat on the banks in my folding chair in a sweater over long underwear with a coat on top, eating my spicy peanuts and taking pictures of my kids who, as far as I'm concerned, had lost their minds.  There's got to be some scientific explanation for why kids can do this.  They aren't old enough to be sacrificing comfort in the name of fashion of sex-appeal yet.  So why?  Why freeze your tail off and giggle while you do it?  I will never understand.  Someday, when they are parents and their children plunge into the polar water while they stand by in their scarf and gloves, I will remind them that they did it too.  And then we can ponder this great mystery of the universe together.

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Here's to a few final snow days!

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