The Waiting Game

This time of year is a holding pattern, waiting for the season to change.  Winter has been simply taking a break, throwing us some lovely, sunny days.  Yesterday, cold and overcast, was a reminder that he isn't through with us yet.  It's way too early to rake off the tons of fallen leaves, much too soon to turn the earth in the garden, seed packets tell you to wait until all danger of frost is past before planting and that's a while away.  All (or most) of the winter repairs and indoor tasks have been accomplished.  Football has just the last hurrah.  NASCAR is another month away.  And so we wait. 

Isn't it funny how we arbitrarily assign gender to the inanimate?  Winter is male, spring is female, summer and fall seem to be androgynous.  Ships are she, cars can be hims or hers according to their owners, trucks are invariably he.  If you really want to know the specific gender of a thing, listen for which "B" word comes out when that thing breaks. 

I'll take advantage of this lull to sit reading on the deck in the sun (when it's out), make plans for the garden (again!), decide whether to breed one of the girls, think about cleaning the hen house...and wait.