This is what a long and bitter winter will do to you. You start out blathering about natural colors and the textures and hues of the rural autumn. Then the early flurries speak of purity and the cleanliness of the blank slate. “White,” you croon, “goes with anything. Tra-la.” Then it lasts and lasts. January omits its customary thaw. February shows no easing of the misery. March is better, but not much better. April is supposed to come “like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.” Not this year! April kicks off with snow and sleet and freezing rain and more snow.
Somewhere around the second week of March it happened! Ka-blooie!! The kitchen was transformed. Steaming cauldrons appeared. The discussion turned to the number of milliliters in an ounce. Wet skeins draped from doorknobs. The carder rasped its tune. And colors appeared from out of nowhere. The colors of spring. The colors of summer. Bright and reassuring. Everything will be all right. The drab and dreary season will indeed come to an end. Spring will soon come over the ridge and save us once again.