It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want – oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so! –Mark Twain

Ahh. At this time a week ago, the weather had reached the 70’s. All the snow had melted away, the skies were blue, the birds were singing, and you could feel that special warmth of the sun that’s telling you a new–and warmer–season is about to begin.

Well, Mother Nature is a big tease. And as far as I’m concerned, that furry little liar Punxsutawney Phil can stay in his little hidey-hole forever. Yesterday we woke up to this:

I mean, come on! What the heck is that all about? Big sigh. Just when the winter coats have been put away, snow shovels put back into sheds, and new mulch is spread in gardens…wham! Old Man Winter, all smug and stuff, sneers and shakes his cane at us, shouting “Hah-hah! You thought I was done. Well, you thought wrong!” Oh, the joys of living in the Northeast.

In order to combat the blues that inevitably accompany a long, very cold, and veeeeery snowy winter, Beverly and I have decided that if spring won’t come to us, well then, we will just have to make spring for ourselves. Behold, an instant sunny day:

There. Now doesn’t that just make you smile? Take THAT, winter. (And thanks to one of our fellow editors Jane for the supply of pretty papers. It totally pays off to work at a craft magazine company.)