There are very few things I am ready for Cobbers, but right now, spring is one of them, and it is at the top of my list. I cannot even begin to actually articulate the way I am feeling right now. I could cry expectant tears in hopes of grass, sun and weather that doesn’t hurt my face.
Most of us are suffering from what many call “spring fever.” We are at our wits end trying to remember what fall was like and how summer made us feel. Lucky for you, I am here to remind you.
Remember what it felt like to bust out your American Eagle sandals? That feeling of freedom. I think we can all agree that winter feels like confinement. Winter is like that sweater you dig out once a year to wear for your grandmother at christmas time, too-tight, restricted and smells of damp wool, a.k.a. sadness.
We live in a place where it is actually winter for half of the year, which means for half of the year we get to enjoy ourselves, and that’s it. Unless you are a hard-core outdoors enthusiast who enjoys freezing and shouting, “Any season is camping season if you try hard enough,” which is true, but for the rest of us, a little motivation through this last stretch of white-walker weather.
Winter means no-shame indoor-days. We can close the blinds, have a drink and watch Frozen until our minds are etched with the words to “Let it Go.” We have no lack of pride in the deep internet spiral we fall in because hey, it was a snow day. Days where pants are optional, and so is motivation. Winter is a season where no one expects you to spend your days outside, no one gives you a side-eye when you say you spent your whole day indoors, because hey, it’s cold.
All of that being said, I want to be done with this god-forsaken tundra weather. In an open letter to spring, I beg it to come sooner, for it to visit us, those with blue lips and dead fingers. The fact that I have contemplated getting an extension cord to start melting the snow just to see grass is not a thing that should happen. In a letter to winter I would say, yes, I like the cut of your jib, but please for the love of god, get the hell out.
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