Winter has arrived. And I’m pretty sure Winter isn’t happy about ending his vacation in Aruba and getting to work.
I say this because it was face freezing, finger numbing, tears streaming cold when I walked the Puppy this morning. And I don’t imagine things will improve any time soon.
Which means it is officially time to dig out the mittens, fluff up the scarves, and don the hats because being cold is not high on my happy list.
The Puppy seems pretty happy about the snow. Until the stuff they use instead of salt to melt the ice gets on his paws. Then he does his best imitation of an abandoned urchin in Oliver! Please Sir, can you clean my paw?
Once I thawed, I started thinking about winter. Why is Winter always Old Many Winter? Why does no one ever talk about Lil’ Baby Winter or The Twins of Winter? Personally, I think The Twins of Winter is perfect since it seems to take twice as long to do things when you have to don enough clothes to transform into the Michelin Man and then travel through ice and snow.
I turned, of course, to My Friend the Internet.
Turns out, just about every culture (and by “just about every culture” I mean at least three) characterize Winter as a Cranky Old Man and Spring as a Sweet Young Thang. The reason for this should be obvious: who wants to look at a Cranky Old Man in a diaphanous gown? Better he should be covered like a department store Santa. And tulips and cranky just don’t go together at all.
Must go thaw.