The time of year I like least

is almost over. If you live in an area where you have clearly defined seasons like I do here in Michigan, it's that short period of time (but sure seems to last forever) that occurs between winter and spring.


I call it the D season. The final lingering snow piles are dirty; the tree, shrubs, and flowers look dead; the spring peepers are still deep in their holes; the mostly sunless days are dreary.


Once I hear the frogs and see my daffodils everything will be OK.