This is not a joke!

Odd to think that I have chosen April 1 to make my first entry on my brand new blog called "Always Winter."  Those who know me know that I do not tell jokes and many times don't get jokes.  I don't tell them, because remembering the punch line is absolutely crucial.  Not getting jokes is a whole different animal. If I figure that one out, I'll let you know. My intelligence is average, so that couldn't be it.  I do like to laugh, but it's usually when I do something really silly like the time I lined up my toes in the heel mark at the Driver's License Office and wound up staring at a blank wall instead of the camera to have my picture taken.  I laughed about that for weeks.  I'm sure the officer did too.  It has to be coincidental that I'm writing this on April Fool's Day, right?

Probably the next thing I need to explain is my title--Always Winter.  That's easy.  Never Summer was already taken.  Stopping to think about it, Always Winter is better than Never Summer anyway, because even if it is Never Summer, it could also be spring or fall besides Winter.  Not that I dislike spring or fall; Winter is just better.  Well, OK, I do dislike spring, but not fall.  Fall means Winter is on the way.  Always Winter, in my mind, would be the height of seasonal glory.  I'm not sadistic like the White Witch in Narnia who declared that it must be always Winter and never Christmas.  Christmas is part of why Winter is the most beloved of all seasons.  I don't get all gushy over longer days, pretty little flowers poking their heads out of the ground and birdies singing.  As for summer, I don't own a bathing suit, and who wants to see all that skin anyway?  Trust me--you don't want to see mine.  Give me a raging blizzard and a couple feet of snow any day.

OK, I love to write, so a blog is perfect for me.  Today does mark something of a milestone.  I picked up the 5,000th cigarette butt in my "collection."  It should be noted here that my grandson, Jonathan, helped me.  And he was a BIG help.  Unlike the gloves (59) I'm not really saving the butts I pick up.  Yuck.  Too stinky!  Everyone who carelessly tosses their cigarette butts to the curb, sidewalk edge, parking lot or grassy area should have "The world is my ashtray" tattooed across their forehead.  Maybe I am sadistic.  An explanation of my love for trash pickin' as I call it, will have to wait for another time.

The days are getting longer, I think that's iris trying to break ground out front and the Estes Park News reported that the Mountain Bluebird has returned.  It's April 1st.  That means it's 264 days until Winter.

Always,
Winter