Gray is my favorite color. Except in February. And in November. There’s so much gray in those two months, I’m surprised there’s enough to spill out into any other months. But there is. January’s not all bright white snowy days.

And March. March has a few grey days as well. Some days in March , the wind wears a gray coat, and you can hear it swishing through the trees and brushing up against the glass, trying to blow in at the window.

But March makes up for it, she also has her sunny days. Windy, yes, but a bright friendly wind. The kind that dries up the puddles and makes the daffodils dance. Its a quiet wind, and it seems to apologize for those days when it wore a gray coat and blew the plastic off my garden.

Miss April comes in a dazzling green coat. She scatters dandelions like confetti, in celebration of Spring. But she also likes to put on her gray coat. And her big gray parasol that hides the sun, but doesn’t keep the rain away. She brings days and days of puddles. Especially if you had planned to plant garden or plow corn. But she mixes sunshine in the gloom, and the sunny days are what we remember, as we fondly think of April.

May, June, July, August, September, October, they march by, in a parade of color. Many many colors, always changing, green grass, sometimes brown, flowers of every color, leaves of red, orange and yellow, and skies of blue. Only sometimes gray.

Then theres November. The sky is gray. The trees are gray. The mountains look gray. I’m glad Thanksgiving Day is in November. It’s such a good reminder to be thankful for the blessings we have, in a time when we’re most likely getting deficient in vitamin D, and starting to feel a little… I don’t know, (gray?) Because honestly without Thanksgiving, would there be anything good to say about November?

December runs in the front door, and skips out the back door, and you don’t see it again for a year. No one even knows what color December is. It’s just a blur of love and light and friends and family, and yummy food… we don’t even notice the gray, but I’m sure it’s there.

Two months later, November comes back. The nerve. Pale and cold, he saunters in and makes himself at home . He wears the same gray coat, but he scratches out “November” on his nametag and writes something else instead. Most people aren’t sure how to to say it, so they just kinda mutter it out some way and go on quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice that they didn’t exactly pronounce the first R.

Twenty-eight days of November #2 (aka “February”) is plenty and more for most people, but, being a nervy rascal, he’s been known to stay an extra day.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. Maybe we should establish a new Thanksgiving Day in February? Maybe it’s just me who doesn’t love 28 days of gray skies, and gray-brown mud, alternating with snow and bitter cold? Maybe I need an attitude adjustment? Or to grow up?

Maybe I’m just ready for spring. Speaking of growing up…I was really dreading March this year. But 20 days into February, I guess I’ll be ok with March after all. Even if I really have to turn 30.🙄

I guess there’s a chance that our governor will cancel March again. Would this mean I get to stay 29 another year? 🤔😅

Ok I’m done with my rant. 🙂 I think I need to follow the advice I gave my Honey yesterday. He was feeling a little gloomy about the depressing weather, and just the fact that sometimes when you’re farming for a living, the “living” part can be a little bit scarce; and at times you kinda don’t have a life.

“Oh, you just need to count your blessings!” I told him helpfully. “ And sing! That always makes you feel better!”

A few minutes later he came grinning into the kitchen, singing: “Old McDonald had a farm, I-owe-I-owe-I-owe!” 😂 My day was made. I hope yours is too 🙂

And hey, you are like me and need ways to brighten February, hit me up. Come sit at my kitchen table and have a cup of tea with me. I have plenty of Earl Gr- …uhhh, never mind. I’ll buy some peppermint.