By the time I return home it will have become warmer:  every day just about will be in the seventies.  Spring finally arrived in PA.

Tomorrow is Spring and it does not feel that way.  I checked the ten day forecast–most of the next ten days are thirties and forties with only one day hitting fifty.  It snowed a few inches yesterday and I checked the crocuses:  one bud was peeking out of the snow.  I know.  Spring will finally come with the corresponding higher temperatures and then I will take the warmer weather for granted.

Spring was less than a hair away–less than three weeks. Perhaps by then all the snow will have melted. The snow seems as if it was on the ground forever. Though it was only February and now the bare spots are bigger.

In fact, the daffodils have already poked their their heads through the ground. I checked today. The primrose can’t be too far behind.

I know the temperatures will rise gradually. Before I know it, spring will arrive and all this cold weather will just be a memory.

In ten weeks I will take my annual camping trip with Chuck. Maybe even catch some more trout on the lake. Who knows?

Though, I am still bundling up–even in the house. I don’t like to be cold. Winter is still a reality but I am now anticipating spring already and the warmer weather. I know it will have arrived for good when I start wearing my tee shirts again.

It Is Wet and Cold

Author: siggy

It is cold and wet and damp.  Even my dog does not want to stay out.  It is forty-three degrees.  I made sure I put a warm, long sleeved shirt on with a sweatshirt.

It is only October fifteenth but I am ready to hibernate until spring and warmer weather.  This is the time of year that all I want to do is stay in my heated (and warmer) house.  To think Autumn is just beginning.  How depressing!

bballMy twenty year old daughter observed, “You are not too old for you can still play basketball.”  Basketball is a game I have loved all my life.  There still is something esthetically pleasing to me about being able to shoot a basketball through the hoop.  If I can do it without touching the rim, it is even better.

I am sixty-one and not foolhardy enough to play a running game with the youth.  I am afraid to play with the abandon I used to in my youth.  I still find my daughter’s observation interesting.

I have loved basketball as far back as I can remember.  I was only a mediocre player but still loved playing.  I made up for my lack of talent with tenaciousness on the court.  I was not afraid of playing against anyone, any size.  Those days are over but I still enjoy shooting basketballs and see no reason to stop.

I can still use the sport to get back my wind and do that by shooting from different corners of the court and increasing the tempo gradually.  All I need is a basketball and some warmer weather.  I had forgotten how much I still love the game.  My daughter reminded me of that.  God bless her for that.