February is a darn right tricky month. Even the spelling and pronunciation causes a double take in most language loving individuals. Our calendar’s second month is a bit of a tease. She will flash the thawing temps of the promising spring one day. The next day it will chuckle with laughter as the chains of a mid-winter deep freeze will bog us down.
February’s personality is that of a stone-faced poker player. You never quite know what you’re dealing until the mid morning cards are flipped over. Is it parka weather with a long scarf and thinsulate gloves? Sweaters and vests will do the trick most days. Some February days are ‘short sleevers’ for those with thick skin and low IQ’s.
Those February road conditions can be a challenge right? Would you like your inch of ice on top of your foot of snow or at the bottom? Here in the upper Midwest, the month treats us to amazing weather phenomenon such as thunder snow, ice fog, sleet, clippers, drastic cold fronts, and muddy slush. February has a hard time making up its mind. So do the people who trudge forth through its lengthening days.
Civilians have a hard time deciding on what February really stands for. I mean it’s not like the Christmas month of December, or the fishing season and baseball playing of May. October is pretty straight forward; harvest season, Halloween and football Saturdays. But not that evil 28-day February! We can’t decide if we should be watching for an overgrown hamster box with his shadow or shall we jot down stolen poetry and cheesy song lyrics to give to our latest crush?
Then, we throw the whole President’s day thing in the middle. But we don’t lock it in place. We just say, “Let’s do it on a Monday, we all need a little time to organize our thoughts and calm our nerves.”
Ah, the not so lovely February. It is halfway between winter’s serenity and spring’s flowers of eternal hope. It’s in an ever changing state of flux. We are not really sure where it comes from. Most are happy to see it go. It gets cast aside like stale bread, flat soda, and mismatched socks. Good Riddance!
Oh well, at least there are merely twenty-eight days…most years.
-TGI
