Thawed and Confused

I have  a confession to make.

I am an incurable optimist. Every year as soon as New Year’s celebrations are completed and the confetti has been swept up, if whatever snow we might have had has melted I immediately assume that THIS YEAR we are going to have an early spring. If I’m outside, and a breeze wafts by that doesn’t freeze my nose off my face, I start wondering if I have any gas in my lawn mower, because clearly, I’m going to need to start mowing my grass. Probably as soon as next week!

Reality doesn’t matter. Who cares if it’s still January—I’m pretty sure that’s the sun I see. And if you can see the sun, summer can’t be that far off. And summer means flowers, and gardening, and trips to the beach, and camping, and fireworks, and flip-flops and bees. Stupid bees, I’m still mad about my toe. Optimistic, but mad. Did I eat all the s’mores chocolate? Where do you suppose I put the sunblock?

Imagine my surprise when the snow and bone chilling cold return before I’ve located my lotion. I did not see that coming--who knew January could be so cold? Surely February will herald the return of spring, we’ll probably see the first robin right around Valentine’s Day. I can use my Valentine’s chocolate for s’mores, hooray!

That’s the beauty of optimism, it needn’t be fact based. In fact, if it IS fact based, I’m not sure that it qualifies as optimism—it’s FACT. Optimism is more ethereal, like hope. And as Emily Dickinson once wrote “Hope is a thing with feathers.”

I think she meant a robin. Hello Spring!