Winter really didn’t have much of an icy grip this year. It is not unheard of to see a hearty snow in the middle of March, but I think the danger of that is over. Spring appears to be here to stay, if the Cherry trees, Flowering Pear, and Daffodils are to be believed. Per the old days, this is the time of Ostara – a custom modern day subscribers call Easter. From my own ancestral brethren, only Sumarmál (summer time) followed winter. Presumably because the frigid climate of Scandinavia had little in the way of transition between Jól (mid-January) and some warmer, sunny weather in April. If things continue the way they have been for the last few years in the Southeastern United States, we may drop winter in favor of a spring – summer – fall cycle.
I could certainly deal with no winter ever again except for very brief days on occasion. In fact, to be certain I never have to face a winter season again, I’m fleeing to southwest Texas-average lo 42. Aaaah.
Love,
Mom
We come from the land of the ice and snow,
from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods
Will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying:
Valhalla, I am coming!
Dude, that’s Led Zep singing about your ancestral brethren. You’re lucky, The best I have is “If that ain’t country” by David Allen Coe. I could only trace my paternal family back to a colonial jail in Savannah. My forefather’s crime: poaching deer. at night. with a lantern. on someone else’s land.
At least it was deer and not some poor farmer’s cattle missing the spray-painted tattoo labeling them as such.
Ole, alwaysd remember that our most recent ancestors on the maternal side had to leave Tennessee very quickly. Most likely for horse-thievery. They settled in Alabama where the weather was a bit milder. (No fools, they)
Love,
Warm-blooded Mom