For February

Dear February,
I used to love you so much.

In Georgia, your arrival meant that spring was just around the corner. That certain slant of light in the late afternoon was like a kiss, a promise of something more to come. By the time you were on your way out, the daffodils would be almost in bloom.

In my younger years, you held so much excitement. A crush of social events. Afternoons full of extracurriculars. The beginning of track season. The planning of spring break.

As I grew older, your little month meant big things, none more significant than that night seven years ago when I said, “I do.”

Oh, February, what happened to you? You changed for me, when I moved here. And I am not as hardy as I thought I was. Now you mean grey. And then more grey. And then – impossibly – more grey. You do not signal anything like the imminent arrival of spring; that will not come until late April, maybe May. There will be no daffodils here for a long time.

Your snow, which looked so beautiful falling from your vast (grey) sky turned next to slush, and then to ice, and now to some (grey) mix I have no name for. Everywhere I step is ugly, and treacherous. I ruin my shoes for you, February.

Your kiss no longer means warmth, it means illness. How many days of your month have already flown by, while I and my brood stayed cooped and feverish in our house? I missed my anniversary date for you, February.

Now, dear February, you are almost gone. I suppose I should be glad, mean as you have been. But I am wistful, still. For one, I know March to be far crueler than you – he actually promises spring without ever delivering; he goads me with his lengthening days while withholding warmer, fairer skies.

Also, how could I ever be entirely angry at a month that gave all us knitters one beautiful, enduring (and ubiquitous) gift:

February Baby Sweater


details forthcoming
(with 100% less melodrama)
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15 thoughts on “For February

  1. I feel exactly the same way! It’s a cruel tease, this spring business. And usually it rains the entire month of May, to add insult to injury (because what’s better than cold, miserable, and a flooded basement?). I’m in southern New England, by the way. Stupid winter.

    (And I have one sleeve to go on my own February baby sweater! What’s a knitter to do, but cast on something wee and beautiful?)

  2. Ah, but at least a later spring means that you don’t have horribly hot weather for six months or so like we do here! I suppose that’s not much consolation when I get to have 70 degree sunny days right now. πŸ™‚

  3. I can’t say I’ve even been a fan of February. But that February sweater brings me hope – it’s such a tease, it looks really pretty.

  4. When a staff member moved here from Florida, one of the first things I told her was to plan a vacation in February or March, because Feb is so unbearably long, despite being the “shortest” month.

    I have my own Feb sweater to show off, too! I need to fix my closure–I’m thisclose.

  5. February is usually somewhat of a dreary month. But this year its been warm with sunny blue skies. The camellias are popping out everywhere πŸ™‚

  6. Snow is falling as I write. School is closed for the third time this month. Boys are snoozing in their beds. I was hoping to see the lunar eclipse tonight. If it’s clear enough,it should be beautiful with the new fallen snow. I plan to fill the crockpot and have a knit day. No matter how dark the winter, there will always be a spring.

  7. Ah yes, February is a great time for February sweaters! (I found you from minty’s blog) I love the color of yours. Three cheers for spring!

  8. I am so glad February’s almost done, but now I’m wondering if there is enough time for me to jump on the February Sweater bandwagon… a friend of mine just had her first girl yesterday…

    Your sneak peak pic looks fabulous.

    Happy knitting-
    ali

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