Friday, February 03, 2006
This Piece of Cake Winter...
... is quickly disappearing from our table. But oh my, it was delicious while it lasted.
Yes, here where I live, we've been having what I call, a Piece of Cake Winter. I mean usually, January is our iciest, most dangerous month. The month where you stay home as much as you can and when you do get outside, everyone is bundled and huddled-over while taking baby steps across parking lots of ice. Usually in January, the daytime temperature hovers around 3 degrees Fahrenheit and we have wind chills of -20 (or more). January is usually the month we all ask, "Why do we even live here?"
Oh, but not this January. No, last month was like early Spring-without-the-flowers. It was a month of stepping outside the door, feeling the gentle air upon your face and exclaiming, "Man! I can't believe how warm it is!" We had days and days of bright light and temperatures which hovered not around 3 miserable degrees, but around 40 and even 50.
Some people don't believe in global warming. I do.
But you know about cake don't you? You have it one day and then you want it the next day, too. And the next. Soon, you start expecting cake everyday... you start demanding cake. And next, you can't even imagine life without cake.
Well, this glorious January has been like that and everyone in my town has become terribly spoiled. We want our cake and to eat it, too... we want this party weather to stay--who cares that it almost feels like The Twilight Zone? We want our early-spring to remain... and the fact that no deep freeze means that summer will probably be rife with insects, well, we'll think about that later.
But this weekend, the Piece of Cake Winter will finally be taken from our table, crumbs and all. This spring-in-winter party will be over.
Oh well. The party was lovely while it lasted and I thanked the Host over and over for showing us such a good time. But sometimes you just can't be thankful enough. (Have you ever felt like that?) Some gifts are too plain wonderful, and for some reason, you just can't pull up the deepest level of gratitude. You can't be glad enough, though you certainly try.
The lake effect snows will swirl-in this weekend... and it's up to me to not let them bury my gratitude.