deception, thy name is February

I have lived the last 10 February's of my life with these song lyrics as my dogma:

"And February was so long that it lasted into March...."

I always reveled in the irony (is it irony, bog?) of those words because, well...February is the shortest month of the year, right? But yet, in those 10 years, I have come to believe that it really is the longest month. Every January 31st, I brace myself for the long cold February that is ahead. And the cold and snow that I brace for usually lasts well beyond Feb 28th.

This year, February seemed particularly looming considering the kind of winter we've had so far. I have vague memories of years ago when snow was piled so high next to our driveway that we could build huge hills to sled down in our front yard. I always thought my memory scale was just faulty because no recent winter has touched it. This year, of course, has been different. it has made me wonder aloud, more than once, 'Winter does exist!" But then I got tired of it snowing piles every other day. February hadn't even come yet, and I was already sick of winter. That's not a good sign.

Turn time forward to last week and you find me driving through town all bundled up in my down coat with my window down, my sun roof open and the air blowing on cold. Why did I do this? Well, I would think it was obvious. February just isn't right without record cold temps. So even though the thermometer said 45 degrees, chances are it was lying and I would still need my warmest coat.

Or maybe it's that I refuse to get my hopes up that winter is actually coming to an end. Somehow, if I never start wearing my spring jacket, I can avoid the heartache of once more, pulling out the down coat when the temps decide to plummet again.