In my neck of the woods, as NBC's Al Roker would say, weather forecasters are foaming at the mouth, tracking the next BIG snowstorm on their radar. It would be the fourth major storm of the season.
I don't care. I see light at the end of the tunnel. Spring is firmly in hand. I have my volunteer assignment for the Philadelphia International Flower Show, which starts February 28.
Yeah, sure. Give me a few weeks of spring rains and weedy gardens, and I'll be ready for the next season. But for now, that first smell of grass and the sight of showy crocus, daffodils, and tulips are enough to bring tears to my eyes.
No wait, that's just the remnants of my stubborn winter cold.