I know we’ve all waited and waited for the weather to warm up and the snow to melt.

Now, I look out my window and I see the yucky mud and brown grass and I’m still not happy. At least with the snow on top it looked prettier. However, I’m over the snow and glad most of it’s gone.

Next winter when someone hears me whining about where it is, smack me a good one.

I do love snow on Christmas and even enjoy a little of the white stuff on Thanksgiving. (How else are we to go over the river and through the woods?)

I’m usually one of the first to look around in November and wonder when it’s going to happen.

Well, I think I’m either getting older or my “let it snow” button is broken or has been abused. I just want a little more sunshine and temperatures warm enough so I can’t see my breath.

I have scraped my car windows enough. My coat pockets and purse have been filled with snow while I cleared off my car, soaking their contents. My shoes and socks have gotten snowlogged from trudging through drifts and piles.

I’m tired of tiptoeing on sidewalks and across parking lots, risking a painful fall and guaranteed embarrassment.

I have walked the dog through blizzard-like winds and blowing snow only to have him look at me as if I’m the crazy one. (Does he know the effort it takes to bundle up for such endeavors? The layers and layers I pile on? Then his boots and sometimes a coat? Sheesh! It’s an endeavor!)

I have gazed out the back window and marveled at how beautiful the snow makes everything look right after it’s fallen. The snow can make the landscape quite breathtaking.

I’ve shoveled and chipped and huffed and puffed until frankly, I don’t care for snow quite as much as I did at the beginning of the season.

I have felt accomplishment when finishing with the hard floors only to have the husband come home or the dog need to go out and then, poof, the floors are dirty again — like it never happened.

Where is spring!

I can’t wait to see the tender beginnings of tulips, daffodils, hyacinths and narcissus shooting out of the fresh, green ground.

The canal will be filled with ducklings and the air with song from winged friends.

The smack of a bat hitting a ball is right around the corner. I can almost hear it now.

Why is it we’re never happy with what we have right now? We’re always looking to the next thing.

Well, throw me right in the mess and bring on spring; I can’t wait much longer.