Two weeks ago, it was summer here in the Blackstone Valley. No, really. Summer. Tee-shirts. Fishing. It was beautiful. It wasn’t a single day. It was a couple of weeks and even after the temperature dropped into the forties, it was still pretty nice out. We began to think that maybe winter really was over.
I am never sure winter is over in New England until the middle of April. I’ve lived here a long time. I’ve seen winter roar back so many times, early and late. So, when Marilyn woke me up this morning to ask me to move the car to the top of our long, sloping driveway, I was not happy. But I also wasn’t surprised.
Winter is back.
Not for the last time, either. Next week we’re expecting (probably) a much bigger storm. It is what it is, but it would be nice if it were something else. Mostly, warm.