I lost winter 鈥� again!
In my free time, (there’s lots of that these days), I find myself rummaging through some of the old columns I’ve written over the years.
I found one column from 2007 that seems to be prescient this week.
“I Lost Winter,” was a column I wrote for the 蘑菇视频 back in March of that year, that was about a 71-degree day that happened smack-dab in the middle of winter.
Isn’t that what we’ve been having lately?
I think it’s time to drag out parts of that old column and apply them to what’s happening now.
Here goes!
“I heard a bird this morning. I can’t speak bird, but I think he (or she) was telling me they were a little confused.
Right now, birds should probably be taking spring training or something down south. Instead, this bird is up here in Pennsylvania trying to find a bird feeder.
I’m not complaining.
I don’t mind birds (as long as they find a bird restroom that’s not near my head) – and I certainly don’t have anything against temperatures in the low 70s.
I went outside and cleared the rest of the leaves I didn’t clear away last fall.”
(Keep in mind, I first wrote this in 2007. And I certainly didn’t clear away any leaves today – in 2024)
Back to 2007 –
“This afternoon, I flung open the doors and forgot winter. Well, I didn’t forget winter. It’s still winter, but for the time being I’m contemplating watering the grass – even if water might freeze by midnight.
Look, many of us suffered the embarrassment of our car doors freezing shut only a couple of weeks ago. Back then, I thought I’d never get a chance to ride around with my windows at half-mast.
Winter does that kind of thing to you.
The hint of spring does much, much better stuff.
I’m ready to run outside and grill me up a big fat steak. I want to announce to the neighborhood that the smell of burning briquettes means freedom.
Freedom is also when you don’t have to make a mad dash for your car before the teardrops freeze your eyelids shut.
It also means not having to close your front door with the hope that the brutal wind doesn’t chase you into the house. And it means your heating bill doesn’t force you to contemplate having to panhandle to pay it.
I’ve got an urge to make friends with that bird I heard this morning. I just may run out this evening and buy a nice bag of grass seed – to give it something on which to munch.”
NOTE: I didn’t run out and buy a bag of grass seed after I wrote that last paragraph. I changed my mind. I realized I’d simply engaged in what they call – a literary flourish.
Back to 2007.
“I can feel my fingers as I type this. They froze around November and I’m starting to get some feeling back in them today.
A 70+ degree March day is a great time to think about stuff thawing that had (it seems) been frozen for months.
There are those familiar fragrances I haven’t smelled since September.
I wonder why the neighbor decided to walk his dog on our lawn this morning.
I don’t care.
I’ll be glad just to speak to our neighbors for the first time in months without complaining about how cold it is.
One neighbor has been standing in front of his house since December.
I think his feet got frozen to the sidewalk. Well, he just walked inside.
I hope his wife and kids remember him. That’s what early spring means to me. We’re all getting reacquainted with things.”
Isn’t it funny how the constant pale skies turn wonderfully blue this time of year? Brown grass will soon turn bright green. No more of those dark overcoats and gloves. We’re heading into the pastel season.
But not yet.
Unfortunately, there’s still a little more winter left.
It was in 2007, and it is in 2024.
Al Owens is a multi-Emmy Award winner, former reporter, and anchor for Entertainment Tonight, and 50-year TV news and newspaper veteran. E-mail him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net.