It reminds me how so many years ago, the winter we spent in Virginia, I declared that I could "totally live with a winter like this." And now we've had it. With the exception of a few minor snowstorms, we had a very super mild few months and it makes me fear for the season ahead. Granted, we've already planted a few things in our garden (greens, peas, and sunflowers...) but something about it has me worried.
I've already plucked a few ticks off my littlest one, and not the pleasant sized easy to see ones either. They were teensy. And according to what I've read, this is promised to be another terrible year for ticks and fleas. Which means, of course, another year of rampant Lyme disease. Practically everyone I know has had some sort of run in with it, living on the rural coast of Maine as we do. The symptoms are easy enough to catch, if you watch for them, but ideally you catch the tick before it comes to that. Sigh.
Also, from what I read, one of the main reasons the ticks will be so bad this year is that they, like all the other bugs floating around, weren't given the chance to die off in the cold months of winter. Along with the bugs that have been making everybody sneeze, cough and sputter, the ticks have been just hunkered down waiting for the cold to wear off so they can bust out and climb all over my sweet little daughter's skin. (and everybody else's too...) Yuck.
Somehow I can deal with a great many different daily nasty things, but ticks just push that button in me that makes my skin crawl. Eh. I guess that is just a part of living in the woods...something is gonna do it.
A few days back we spent the morning with some friends at the beach, which was just beautiful. The girls (my friend's five year old and my big girl) spent the whole morning trying to work out how to get completely soaked without their mamas really noticing that they were up to their waists in the freezing cold of March's ocean. Eventually the mamas stopped caring and just let them go. They had a wonderful time...and were completely dismayed by the fact that they had to somehow clean off the sand and get into the car in dry pants to leave. The babies were not so excited by the whole thing. Both teething, my friend's littlest one and my own, were the picture of baby frustration. They both wanted to be attached to their mamas' the entire time. Nursing, preferably.
So, the freakishness of an early summer is nothing to complain about, thus far, but it has me worried about what the rest of the season might bring. Global warming has me freaked out about what this might mean for seasons for the next generation. As a child I saw the Maple Syrup weekend as the first real weekend of Spring. And now, with a beach trip already under our belts and a few ice cream outings... what is it going to mean when it really is summer?
We went from winter hats to flip flops in a couple days. I guess I am a sucker for the slow gradual change- not to mention the tradition. On March days when it's already too hot to bake our weekly bread... well...
Is this something else we have to get used to? Will we have to adjust our traditions accordingly?
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