This morning I woke to yet another day of winter. And though my Midwestern roots do, on occasion, make me miss mounds of snow, a light dusting every five years is just fine by me. But for some reason, Charlotte hasn’t been holding up to her end of the deal this winter. The deal of course being: I can’t live without warm weather and Charlotte provides it almost year round.

As many of you knew but probably didn’t care enough to google the outcome, Punxsutawney Phil worked his one day a year yesterday. Apparently my desperate letter didn’t get past his handlers because he is predicting six more weeks of winter. That little stinker. (Note: According to his website, he also was excited about the Pittsburgh Steelers winning the Super Bowl. Who knew ground hogs followed football.)

So, despite what the daffodils in my yard might think, spring is not here yet. I am forced to wait patiently under my blanket on the couch with my hot cocoa and book until I can get out and enjoy the sun on my face. Brr.