It’s easy to see life as an uphill battle somedays.
Or at least a slippery slope.
That’s how I was feeling navigating that maze called taxes recently as the snow kept falling.
Yet I was still seeing blue skies on the horizon.
And today most in the northern plains were leaping up to touch those skies with pure excitement.
As once temps go from five below to 65 above in a week, amazing things start to happen.
Our bountiful, broadleaf weeds reappear and we pick them like daises.
The golf course suddenly decides to open and is full of nine iron swinging seniors in shorts.
And only one ice fisherman hold out remains on the lake still waiting for that perfect walleye, until asked by our officer in blue to just “give in to spring.”
I make an after work detour once I notice the old restaurant by the beach has just moved their wobbly tables back outside near the dock.
Many others do the same.
Suddenly our great community is rallying to celebrate the debut of a new season.
With each of its enthusiastic members savoring a delicious new spring appetizer called “warmth,” while uniformly wearing broad smiles on once weary, frozen faces.
Except for that lonely, winter loving ice fisherman.
So we decide to pool our resources and buy him a perfectly warm walleye sandwich.
We figure that ought to thaw him out nicely at least until next winter.