Today I collected all the gloves, mittens, wooly caps and scarves into a pile on the floor.
There they lay in a mismatched jumble of color, style, and size. I picked them up as best as I could in one armful and carried them, less a few escapees, to the washing machine.
I stuffed them into the washer, collected the strays, poured in the detergent and slammed the lid on a winter I hope we don’t repeat anytime soon.
When they were laundered, I matched up pairs as best as I could, folded and categorized and put them away in that place they go to wait the next chill, thy name is Rubbermaid.
Only light jackets remain; they’re still needed in fits and spurts of morning and evening coolness. But the big guns are gone, and I feel an airiness because of it.
In a similar leap of faith in the garden, I planted out the tomatoes and pepper plants this weekend.
Technically I shouldn’t be doing this because our frost-free date isn’t for another 2 weeks. It’s my way of thumbing my nose at winter. Let’s hope it doesn’t turn out more like spitting into the wind.
The tulips and the daffodils certainly think it’s spring.
And who am I to question this face?