The awfullest month
February is the month, eh b’ys?
You might question my grammar but there’s no getting around the fact — February is the awfullest month.
It’s the middle of winter, for frig sake.
January is bearable. The excitement of Christmas and New Year’s is still a residual tingle in our bones. For some folks, it’s even fun to haul on their winter duds and romp about in brand new snowdrifts.
March — although often spoken of as being “long and hungry” — even trumps February. Once the Vernal Equinox has been reach we can hope for spring, at least.
But god-awful — god-awfullest? — soul-sucking February has no redeeming features. It is the bleak dead of winter. The initial wonder of winter has ebbed. The eternal hope for spring still lies deep inside sod with hibernating dandelion buds — bless their hearts.
“Harry, my sad, SAD honey,” said Dearest Duck, thinking she was being funny. “It sounds like you are suffering from seasonal affective disorder.” “P’raps I am, my Duck,” said I. “Buck up, my love,” said Dearest Duck. “Sure, there is only 28 days in February.”
“Ah, one of February’s misleading nasty tricks,” said I. “Posting just 28 days on the calendar is intended to make your noggin think those days will zip by. In actuality, winter’s gloom causes each day to stretch and distort like pulled and twisted taffy.”
“My love,” said Dearest Duck, “take a pill. Vitamin D might help.”
When I was a wee bay-boy dwelling in a different bay, vitamin D was synonymous with cod liver oil.
As a tiny bay-boy scholar, I sat close to a wall in one of Joey’s confederation schools. Thumb-tacked to the wall was a poster handy the size of a schooner sail. A beaming-faced sun shone from the top half of the poster. This proclamation spread like a belt across the poster’s middle: You are my sunshine, cod liver oil! Beneath that was a picture of an open barrel of fermenting cod livers. That last bit is a lie. If I recall correctly, the picture was a dark blue bottle of Gerald S. Doyle’s cod liver oil.
An aside: Let’s play Facebook. Click “Share” if you remember that poster. Click “Share” again if — in February, the friggin’ dead of winter — Mammy ever head-locked you and forced you to glutch oversized spoonfuls of cod liver oil.
“Harry,” said Dearest Duck, arriving with a brace of pills in one hand and a mug of Tension Tamer in the other. “Take these. They are as good as a tonic.” “Vitamin D, I s’pose.” “Umm,” said Dearest Duck. “Just open your mouth and swallow.”
Remember Groundhog Day? Another of February’s nasty of the awfullest sunshine tricks. Groundhog Day is February teasing, saying, “Let’s play a happy game. Let’s go outside in the snow and observe wildlife.”
Odds are, February’s sky is overcast so Mr. Groundhog — or Mr. Muskrat, for that matter — will not see his shadow. Folklore claims if that’s the case, confounded Mr. Groundhog will bide outside his burrow, a sign that spring is nigh.
Click “Share” if you ever held your breath on account of that false prognostication
“Harry, perhaps a couple of more pills will help.” “P’raps.” I took my Tension Tamer to my Lay-Z-Boy, swallowed the second double dose of cod oil, so to speak, and reflected on the possibility of a bright spot in February. I sipped my sup of double-T. I cogitated while rapid-release vitamin D flooded my breadbasket and raced like adrenaline through my bloodstream.
And eventually the sun began to shine and banished February’s gloom.
There’s a bright spot in February after all.
Click “Share” if you can guess what it is. No? Here’s a hint. Picture a chubby- arse cherub, — prob’ly trailing a diaper — firing arrows faster and straighter than Robin Hood, or that comely young Everdeen maid in those Hunger Games movies.
Now you have it. Cupid targeting hearts.
Valentine’s Day. Romance and Love galore.
I sprung from my Lay-Z-Boy, grabbed my parka and scravelled towards the door slowing down to smooch Dearest Duck en route.
“We are you asked.
“Just wait and see, my love, my Dearest Duck,” said I. “You’ll be pleasantly surprised when I get home.”
I was bound for chocolates in heart-shaped boxes.
I was bound for bunched in a bouquet.
I was bright-eyed and bushytailed and bursting with gladness.Thank you for reading.
Be Mine, Valentine! off too?” she roses