Winter is long in Vermont, two (Is it possible?) months behind New York City, where I am now. The prediction for tomorrow in Vermont is a foot or so of snow on top of mud-rutted roads that will have frozen into invisible pits of driving doom. Signs of spring are tender and few: Some birds have tentatively returned; some very early flowers will be buried in wet white. But Vermont-hardy, they will likely survive. Some people will worry about the sap run; others about skiing. Everyone will worry about heating costs.
Here in the city, we may have a dusting mixed with chill rain that will decorate the emerging daffodils. But it will be only days before warmth returns and cherry blossoms gloat into bloom.
Now I’m in the know.
Being a big city girl, will have to look up witch windows.