February. My least favorite month.
I'm still not sure why I think that, but I do. Already buds are appearing and the first tentative signs of Spring are in the air, so I should be happy about that. Indeed, I am. However, I just love the first day of March and am always happier when the second month has gone.
I do have plenty to celebrate. I completed my thee year vestry term (although I'm already missing that); we have a new vicar; yesterday was our eldest granddaughter Josie's 20th birthday (she think she's nearly middle-aged, bless her - I haven't the heart to tell her); I completed the redecoration of our kitchen; it will soon be "Valentine's Day" - hang on a second - is that a cause to be happy? I've never been sure about this. Many year's ago my mother called this and Mother's Day, "Woolworth's Day", her way of calling these simple days of appreciation a commercial heist I suppose. I have heard them called "Hallmark Days" since I've lived here.
Still, although I "love" all things romantic, I could never claim to be one - a romantic that is. Yes, I believe in love, was even a "make love, not war" follower in the sixties, but lovey-dovey, no. Remember, this is the guy who bought his wife of 41 years a wheelbarrow for her birthday! That's a exaggeration, by the way. As if I could really do such a thing? I guess I'm trying to say, go for Valentine's Day, if that's your style. My style? . . . . wait for it . . . . . make every day a special day for the one you love.
Gail has a daily thoughts calendar on her night stand which, after awakening and exchanging our private pleasantries each morning, she reads. This morning the quote (by Dale Evans Rogers) was:
Every day we live is a priceless gift of God, loaded with possibilities to learn something new, to gain fresh insights into His great truth.
Well, there we are then. I guess I'll learn to love February.