Illusions

"Here too it's masquerade, I find.

As everywhere, the dance of mind.

I grasped a lovely masked procession,

And caught things from a horror show...

I'd gladly settle for a false impression,

If it would last a little longer, though."

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 

I am just like everyone else.  I want what I want when I want it and when I am done with it, it should go away.  In the summer’s heat I long for the snow of winter and vice verse.  I am fine with the snow through February but come the middle of March it should go away and not return until October or November.

So the ground hog predicted an early Spring.  Spring starts on March 20 so according to Phil , spring should have started on February 6^th…didn’t happen although the temperatures did rise above our norm for several days which allotted me the time to go trim my blackberry canes.

We continue to have annoyance snows, a dusting to a couple of inches, just enough to let our township suck up some more overtime.  Anyhow, normally I take Phil’s predictions with a grain of salt knowing that Spring will come when it damn well feels like it.  And I thought I was okay with this until the other day. 

I was walking to the barn , blue sky, sun shining and I looked up into the canopy of tree limbs.  My heart fluttered, I stumbled and had to stop and take another look.  Unexpected disappointment flooded in.  #2 daughter who was walking with me asked what was the matter.  I told her to look up and what did she see? Like me she saw the tree budding. 

But it was all an illusion, snow clinging to all the right places making it look like buds.  My hopes had been lifted only to have cold water (snow) thrown on them.

But I quickly recovered knowing that the weather is building some beautiful fleece on my sheep 

and that under that umbrella of snow lies Spring, which will get here before we know it and find us unprepared.

So we need to stop picking on Phil, he is just as accurate as the paid meteorologists.  

And I know all that lore about Phil but for real people Spring is a pipe dream until my duck starts to lay eggs again. I should have remembered that. She is my prongnosticator.