Birthday Bitch

It happens every spring.

April adorns us with a week or two of gorgeous 70, sometimes 80 degree weather. Crocuses come up out of the ground, the rivers glisten, the peepers scream. Neighborhoods start to smell of barbecue, trucks get covered in mud, flip flops and garden clogs get dug out of the closet. I actually shave my legs.

We get used to it. We think it’s summer. We forget, during Ella’s spring break, that she actually has to go back and finish the school year. I think, foolishly, every year, that I might actually get to enjoy this weather on my birthday…. which is, by all rights (right?) considered spring?

But I live in Vermont. This April thing… it’s a tease. Not like a pleasant foreplay kind of tease either…. It’s more like a “here it is and now I’m just taking it away” kind of a tease. May 1rst arrives and it’s back to the wool coat and scarf and leather knee high boots. It’s like none of it ever even happened. Which is fine. I’m just a little bitter.