Shovel? Maybe Later

Sometimes, it seems, I have this thing about "going against the season."

A couple of times a year it happens ... in summer ... and winter. Spring and fall? Hardly ever.

What do I do? Oh, when we're sizzling in summer temperatures, I like to think about those cool ... er, cold ... days and nights of winter.

And in the winter, of course, when I'm freezing, like now ... I keep my mittens on ... and try writing something about summer.

I should have my mittens on right now. We've had snow, freezing rain, more snow ... in recent days. Today we had sunshine ... which usually means some thawing, but I didn't detect any ... no sign of the ice cap's retreating.

The Little Red Car is beginning to look like it just crawled out of a mud bath.

There's some promise of relief ... there's always that promise somewhere out there in the indistinct distance.

Meanwhile, we have snow, ice, and certainly winter temperatures

... in the single digits ... and here's a little winter poem that I may hold to my fevered brow in the peak of summer months:

SHOVEL? MAYBE LATER

From door to street
Isn't all that far,
But with a sleet-
And snow-bound car
Stuck in the drive,
I might just as well
Take another five
And snooze a spell.
© 1995
(originally published in Mature Living)

Today's word: later