There is sun coming through my window. Amazing! Real honest-to-goodness sunlight is spilling all over the living room in eye-squinting excess. Oregonians don’t know what to make of sunlight. We are stunned into silent disbelief, while our brain cells race around trying to remember if we stored our sunglasses near the fleece blankets or under wool socks.
This is February’s gift, that little tough orphaned month that reminds us that winter really will end. It stimulates memories of open windows, screen doors that bang closed, bright colored cottons, and skin that gets darker than a bed sheet.
What is not to like about February?
It doesn’t have Novembers tryptophan-induced naps near the Thanksgiving table.
It doesn’t require pine bough sacrifice, or homage laid at its feet in lights, ribbons and bows like December.
It doesn’t freeze you to the bone, and require the fault-finding resolutions of January.
No, February is short but powerful. If it were a punctuation mark, it would be a dash, separating the worst of winter from the promise of spring. It steps on the world stage saying, I won’t stay long. I don’t take up as much room as the others. I’m just here to give you a glimpse of hope when you least expect it, and to make sure that January and March don’t slam up against each other, causing grief for professional astrologers. The only thing I’ll ask of you, is to think about who you love, and how you want to let them know.