F*ck you, mother nature

Oh mother nature.  Sometimes I love you.  I love you in the summer, when it is 80 and sunny with a nice breeze.  I love you in the fall when the leaves change colors and the air is perfectly crisp.  I love you during a great thunder storm.

I hate you when it is April 1st, the robins and geese are back around, the snow is mostly gone, the temperatures have me aching for flip flops, and you go and open your fury on the north east.

What the what??

When I lived in Truckee last year, snow in April wasn't something for most people to complain about.  People loved that shit.  It meant more skiing! (Please sense my disdain for skiing right now.)  Last April, my loving friends and family (sarcasm) back east would call me in April and tell me "the crocuses are out!"  "We are having a BBQ!"  "It's an incredible 81 degrees out!"

Mr. G had to put me on suicide watch as I listened to these calls and looked out my window at this:

(yes, that is the house on the right with a path to the garage.)

Or as I drove by something like this:

(what, you haven't driven next to 3 stories of snow?)

So, we hit the road (at the end of May.  And it was still snowing).  "Back to VT!" said I, with visions of warm, normal springs in my mind.  And with the weather the last couple of weeks, I was convinced that we were in the clear and that by April 1st, Mr. G would be participating in the annual Burke Pond Skim in his shorts and not wearing a full on snow suit.

Until I woke up this morning and saw this:

Seriously?  10-14 inches at valley level?  More snow at higher elevation?

Fuck you, mother nature.  We are breaking up.

Cold and annoyed,

Granny