by Lisa Bicknell, CV&T editor
Groundhog’s Day is past and so is Super Bowl Sunday. We are nearing the end of winter.
NOT. Sunshine and 65 degrees on Saturday were just a teaser before another winter blast, but boy, they were a welcome sight.
It was like coming up for air after swimming under water too long. It was like a long cold drink on a scorching summer day.
Ahhh. Summer. Remember that?
Sometimes if feels like the return of spring—summer—green grass and flowers—is only a remote possibility, like the whole world is frozen and our semi-tropical summers were just a dream.
I’ve experienced the changing of many seasons. I know that they turn, and turn, and are so predictable that we can mark their comings and goings on the calendar.
But when the ground resembles tundra, and sunshine is weak and lacks warmth, spring seems unlikely, you know?
Am I the only doubter?
I’m glad I took plenty of photos of those warm, colorful days, lest my faith wane completely.
Despite my doubts, I saw hard evidence last week that spring will return.
Flowering bulbs are already pushing blades through the ground. Before the snow melted (briefly), I had thought my daffodils and crocuses would be late this year because of the extreme cold.
But nope, they are already pushing through the ground.
“Oh ye, of little faith,” they chide.
They restore my hope that crocuses will again bloom.
They’ll heed the voice of their internal clocks, and they’ll be okay regardless of what winter throws at them.
Punxsutawny Phil might have seen his shadow up in Philly, but that’s a long way from here. Our local groundhogs, what few are left, didn’t see shadows if they poked their heads out of the ground. All they saw was gray sky and rain, precursors to more ice and snow.
Either way, in six more weeks, it will be mid-March, and spring will surely be getting close.
While waiting on its arrival, I decided to go main stream with the rest of America for a couple of hours and watch the Super Bowl.
I made queso and bean dip, bought wings and baked brownies. We gathered with some more hardcore snackers and watched a lackluster Super Bowl.
Sadly, the most remarkable thing about it turned out to be how many hot wings I ate.
I know so embarrassingly little about football, but I decided Sunday morning to root for the Broncos, because they reportedly have three former University of Kentucky players on their team.
And Peyton Manning. He’s been around long enough that I have a vague idea that he’s supposed to be a pretty good quarterback.
If I knew then what I know now, I’d have found a reason to root for the Seahawks.
The halftime show wasn’t as bad as usual, and none of the commercials really grabbed me, not even the one with the puppy and the Clydesdales. I think Facebook took away the element of surprise with all the previews floating around.
Mind you, I was paying more attention to my plate than to the television.
Now that the Super Bowl and Groundhog’s Day are past, we have Valentine’s Day and pea-planting time to look forward to, the latter occasion being particularly near and dear to my heart.
Surely, spring is just around the corner.