Thoughts on weather

I love winter. I do. I actually love every season. I prefer it, though, when they stay in their lanes. Watching the poor daffodils wilt under an onslaught of sleet put me distinctly out of sorts this morning. Honestly, though, I’m sure it would depress anyone. It would depress circus clowns and hyenas and the people who get paid to record laugh tracks. I’m sure it would even depress Curly, the obnoxiously cheerful protagonist from the play Oklahoma.

That latter reflection led me to wonder what Curly would have sounded like, if Rogers and Hammerstein had set their play in New England (Think, “Maaaaaaaaasachusetts, where the cars sit frozen on the Pike . . . .”). I think his ode to morning would have been way less chipper. It might even have sounded like . . . .

Oh what a miserable morning! I’d like to just skip this bit.
I’ve got a miserable feeling, everything’s going to shit.

There’s a fresh sheet of slush on each byway,
And the black ice has covered the highway.
The roads are so slick that the driving is sick.
I think I’ll stay home and just play with my erector set.

Hmmmm. Needs work, I think . . . .