BOSTON (CBS) - It was the first September in memory that I didn't even reach for a peek. The Farmer's Almanac went unopened. Should have known better. The old prognosticators ended up nailing the 2012-2013 winter forecast. It unfolded just as predicted: relentlessly cold, wet, snowy and most egregious of all long. Too damned long.
Sure the calendar says spring but as of this writing, my ice-dam prevention roof wires (that haven't stopped ice dams on the ceiling three years running) are still abuzz with current, these hands of mine are sandpaper-rough and there's nary a thought of venturing out to check the gas stove battered by weather on the backyard deck. The snow has finally melted enough that if I stare out the back window I can make out the vestiges of my once glorious cooking machine. Thankfully, the old girl is still standing after the winter of our discontent but it (as is the case with its owner) appears far from burger ready.
Fifty four winters for me now and for some reason this one ranks as one of my least favorite. We had a real honest to goodness blizzard but we've had them before and many have been worse. It's been chilling but not the coldest season on record. So what gives? It very well could be the fact that the Red Sox stunk so badly last summer that there's hardly a mention of spring training in the papers or on talk shows. I say ENOUGH ALREADY with boring details about the football draft or those pesky college brackets that I'll never understand. It's time for baseball, isn't it? Or is Fenway forever snow covered?
The other evening I was master of ceremonies for a gala charity auction at a gorgeous spot, The Granite Links Golf Resort high above the expressway overlooking the Boston skyline. Walking (in tuxedo) the short distance from my car to the lobby felt like a stroll Admiral Perry might have taken. A biting wind chill factor, snow encrusted golf course and foot long icicles hanging from the glorious eaves of the club. This would make some sense in mid-February or even the first of March. But this close to April? I refuse to let up and cut Mother Nature any slack.
I realize April Fool's Day is upon us and within weeks the weathermen will be warning of drought, sunburns and oppressive humidity. But how about a little tease to restore our faith? A red robin or a high of 50 or so would be awfully nice.
For now I've resorted to keeping warm with the help of a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, flannel jammies and dandelion dreams. I never thought I'd be thrilled to see dandelions.
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