The March of My Discontent
Winter really never came, but also seems to not want to go away. We got all the ugly parts of winter: high winds, snow squalls, subzero nights. And very little or none of the pretty parts: the angel soft snows, the fairy frost on the trees, the silence of a gentle blanket of powder. We got the spring breakers who would rather be at the beach, and the families who found the snow not nice enough, and the prices too high. My vacation rental, on its first winter, had good attendance but most seemed happy to not ski, but thrilled with the hawks soaring over the fields and hills, and the birth of two new calves behind my property. But not a good March for me. I developed a horrible case of inn keeper's thumb (skiers' thumb with a vengeance) which had my left hand and wrist not merely totally useless but terribly painful. Not only could I not use that hand but could not sleep and barely dress myself. As if sensing my disconnect my Microsoft Windows 10 computer failed. That was fine