February is an uncomfortable in-between month. My apologies to anyone who may have birthdays, anniversaries, or other significant events in this month- like my parents and husband.
But it is.
It’s tight, itchy and heavy, and though the shortest, just a bit too long. It’s squeezed by the promise of a fresh start on one end, and the push of a million humans desperately hoping to cast off their shapeless wool sweaters at the faintest sign of spring on the other.
It’s a no-man’s land of dirty snow, forgotten resolutions, and salt-stained boots. It’s a gray sky, frozen puddle, lingering sniffle type of month. The month where you call into question if Mother Nature has actually quit her thankless job this year. A month where your dreams taunt you with images of lemonade, sandy toes and fireflies.
A month that leaves you ragged and looking for respite. And while, in some ways, March isn’t much better- at least in Wisconsin…it’s a start.