Winter Is Dying

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The days have grown longer, sunshine brightens my mornings.  It has been a long cold winter on The Great Plains.  Weather personalities speak of a Polar Vortex, sweeping down to consume us all in the arctic air of the north.  I feel like the great Alaskan Malamute that lives down the street from me.  As the snow piles higher, that beautiful, cold loving, hound, prances on his daily walks with his master.  One very bitter morning, as I was shoveling my front walk, I thought I saw him smile.  I feel the same way about this quiet, chilly time of the year.  The snuggles are freely given, movie marathons with “blanket beds” retain almost no guilt for tasks left undone, and hot tea warms your body and soul.  I love winter.

In the last few days my fantasies have turned to blissful green meadows, flowers blooming, neighbors chatting, walking a little slower from building to building, just because of the warmth in the air.  Soon inhabitants of the quiet houses all throughout the city will wake from our sloth laden slumbers.  As the sun warms this area of the world, we too shall wake.  I dream of the sunshine warming my hair.  The smell of fresh turned dirt sparks in my memories.  I hear the laughter of children playing in their yards.

It is still just a dream.  Winter has not released her grasp on us, yet.  The air is cold.  Jack Frost will visit again tonight.  I will continue to dream of spring.  While I am awake I will relish every cold moment.  For everything changes and soon winter will pass along to spring.

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