Trapped. Uncomfortable. Cold. (Feet not touching the ground.)
It's still cold. Or, it's cold again. I know everyone else is feeling it too. Where did spring go? My daffodils and tulips would like to know. I can hear them out there, ranting at me. Because, you know, they blame me. I was out there last week, during the warm spell, talking to them. Beaming at them and their little green shoots, encouraging them and congratulating them. And now- now they know me for the false friend that I am. In fear of retaliation- I may never weed again. Pity, isn't it?