Just got back to Alaska. Ah, Home sweet no-longer-home with its two-foot drifts of dirty snow and roads where lanes are a community consensus due to studded tires. It's almost May, which means my friends who are graciously letting me crash in the guest room have windows full of seedlings straining toward the long daylight of breakup. Everybody is full of energy like pent-up floodwater behind a dam, waiting to burst into a hundred all-day-and-night projects of working hard and playing harder.
The next day, I woke up still stiff, groggy, jet-lagged, and wandered with a sheltie to the window. My sight wasn't that foggy - no, the houses and trees nearby were hard to see through the falling snow from the low gray sky.
I didn't miss winter.
Winter, it seems, didn't miss me either.