Sign of Spring

I don't get too worked up about winter.
I like snow. I like snowstorms. I like seeing my breath in the cold air. I like wearing snowpants and my big warm coat, my toque and my mitts to go walking through the snowy woods.
I like winter.
Now that we have that established, I'm not unhappy to see the pussy willows. I'm relieved that the cold snap that followed the warm spell that lured them out didn't kill them. The weather has been particularly volatile this winter, easy yet up and down temperature-wise, and we seemed to get winter in one week: three storms all at once in mid-February. I prefer my seasons to be seasonal; to come in cold and stay cold, to come in hot and stay hot. Fifteen degrees in northern Nova Scotia at the end of February confuses me -- and the plants.
It's looking like we'll have an early spring this year. We spring forward on our clocks this weekend (note to self: next week will be a groggy week) and ten days later, the spring solstice arrives. The pussy willows are out; now to keep our eyes peeled for the first robin.