It’s never been one of my favorite months. Perhaps I still have some bitterness and resentment left over from second grade, when “February” was the only word I spelled wrong on our weekly spelling tests for the entire year (my mom happened to be picking me up from school that day and said hello to my teacher, thus exacerbating my EXTREME humiliation). Perhaps it’s because February is about when winter starts to get yucky, when the snow is more slushy and less pretty. Whatever the reason, I’m trying to change my outlook on February. For one, we’re about three inches of snow into the forecasted fifteen that we’re supposed to get by tomorrow night, so it’s quite pretty and not at all slushy at the moment.
I love snow. Most people here are completely sick of winter by now, and wistful musings of summer vacation and beach days and shorts are frequently overheard. I’m still enjoying this, though. I’ve always loved summer, but it’s never been at the expense of loving winter.