Hypocrite

Missy stopped by again.

Four inches of snow had fallen about us.

She patiently camped out on our cosy and snow free welcome mat and waited for us to be hospitable.

We weren't.

We were on the way to church.

I've heard that some folks think that all Christians are hypocrites.

I guess I'm confessing here: On Sunday we too were hypocrites.

We didn't mean what we said on the door mat.

At least not for cats.

We bid her Good Cheer and drove off in our warm heated car.

Other pussy types were also found on our street. They too were burden with the shift in weather. The warm temps had said "Welcome Spring!" but the truth was it is still winter.

As a poem I read put it:

March I hate you

You are holding hands with spring

But you are married to winter.

Hypocritical March had deal cruelly to the pussy willows as well.

Pussy cats, pussy willows and fir trees alike were confronted with the truth: Yes, it is still winter.

Wearing white: isn't that a summer fashion?

No, wearing white is a winter thing around here.

Fluffy caps top the fence; these are not to be confused with the lovely bonnets of spring.

Missy had visited via a walk through the snow.

What a long cold walk she had on her way to visit such a heartless neighbor!

Confessions: Secretly, I'm not ready for spring. I haven't had my fill of winter artistry yet.

Two tone trees rising from blankets of white make me happy.

The view from the end of the street across the valley to the snow covered mountains: I'm in no hurry to see the mountains bare once again.

Seeds can wait to sprout.

Branches heavy with snow can stay.

My view from the kitchen window can remain a study in black and white.

I can rejoice in this day of winter.

A day which proved to be just as hypocritical as I am; for five hours later all the snow was gone.

The weatherman says it will be warm on Monday.

Spring will flirt with me, but I know the truth.

We still have six more days of winter to go.

And that is only reckoning by the calendar.

Who knows what seasonal displays are yet to be enjoyed between now and the rest of the month?

Oh March.

You are such a tease.