The irony

of a January thaw is the conflict between what’s going on outside and what should be going on outside. It can really mess with a person. Our hats, mittens, boots, and snow-gear are piled and scattered throughout the mud room for what's felt like months now. Yet the warm sun and mild breezes on my hat-free head and lightly- jacketed body is confusing. My routine impulse is to grab for my sherpa-lined coat, push my feet into warm snow mocs, slip on the latest pair of mittens knitted by my sweet Mémère, and brave the bitter temps. (There arrives a moment on or around December 15th, when you no longer care if you get static head; you just want to be warm. I’m so there.) But temperatures ranging from 50° to 60°F? Almost makes me believe I’ll never need those bulking winter garments again this year! It must be spring because I’m wearing only my trés cool puffy vest (that my fashionably clever sister bought me for Christmas) and decorative scarf (which was one of my first ever kitting projects and looks more like a badly crocheted plant hanger than a scarf). Again I tell myself it must be spring because the heaps of fluffy snow are half their original size and the flattened grass looks as though it really wants to be green and glossy. My toddler and I even tramped in squishy mud today – if that isn’t spring, please tell me what is. Please tell me I haven’t still the frigid, snowy months of February and March to plod through. Please?

Because this sucks.

It’s not quite warm enough to do this:


and yet stuffing your hat and hood under a bicycle helmet somehow makes the 30 minute ride worth it. It seems a few zooms around the driveway can awaken those summer peddling legs and give you enough mental juice to get through the inevitable winter that’s yet to resurface. Like when you dream of flying – you know it’s a dream and will eventually wake up. But it sure is fun while you’re up there.

I know winter’s on his way back. He’s never failed me yet. With or without the groundhog’s silly shadow, winter will walk into my house without knocking, pull all my sweaters from the shelf and put two jars of hot cocoa mix in the snack cupboard. Because he’s good like that.

But I did make sure to point and laugh at him when I saw this: