I always appreciate when Spring arrives. The problem in our "neck of the woods" with it is that Spring seems to blast through in a week or so and the hot furnace of summer blows in before you're ready. Here you are walking down the street marveling at the daffodils nodding their heads in greeting, smelling the heavy perfume of the hyacinths, appreciating the pink cherry blossoms when "BLAMO" the next day is eighty degrees and you haven't put away your sweaters and have no idea where your short sleeves shirts are hiding. I could ask for a few weeks just to appreciate the fact that the snow is finally gone and that I don't actually have to hunt up a pair of gloves just to go out to close the garage door. Just a little time to savor the light jacket wearing, the fresh breeze in your face, the pungent smell of the Bradford pears (okay, I'd be fine without that particular harbinger of Spring-but you get the idea).
So whom do you petition? I have no idea. But it's a lovely dream.
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