I’m one of those weird people who really love winter. I love snow, storms, howling wind, even the danger of the power going out (but always hoping it won’t… I’d have to cuddle with my parrots to keep them warm and they can only take so much cuddling before they start shredding with beak and claw.) This year, winter sort of wimped out in my part of Minnesota. Oh, it got cold all right. But we hardly got any snow, the weather was boring, and now I am really longing for spring. I can’t wait to dig my fingers and toes into the dirt of my garden and walk barefooted on the grass as it goes from hard and crunchy winter brown to soft, sleek spring green. I can’t wait for the first dandelions, which I will endeavor to pick and make into dandelion jelly. I can’t wait for ramps and chives and spring onions and the smell of earth and that exciting whiff of ozone and rain from the first thunderstorm of the season.
When I lived in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, I missed thunderstorms AND winter–although the last two years there we had snow and cold to spare. Now that I am in Minnesota, I miss the early spring that is probably happening right now in the pretty wetlands along the Tualatin River and elsewhere in the lower elevations of the Portland metro area. I miss greeting Lord Hood (aka Mt Hood) every morning as the sun rises behind the old volcano and lights up the morning fog that usually blankets the lower lying areas of Portland.
But I am happy, all in all, with where I am. I am lucky. For now, I must go. The owls are calling.