Mother Nature’s Identity Crisis, don’tcha know

My heads a-spinnin. Is it winter? Spring? Summer? A couple a days ago the folks here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean were trading their jackets for shirts, boots for sandles, winter tires for summer ones.

Then this mornin’ the birds woke up coughing and the daffodils sucked themselves back into the earth cause no flower likes getting snow on her face, don’tcha know.

Poor Bogart doesn’t know whether to hibernate like other bears or go swimmin’. Vilma Yuccch’s back to wearing her bikini on the outside of her snow pants. And Beanpole Starkman cancelled his subscription to Farmers Almanac and bought himself a thermometer.

So I’m a-thinkin’, poor ol Mother Nature must be having an identity crisis or a nature breakdown, don’tcha know. I mean, wouldn’t you?

Imagine, if somebody polluted the air at yer cottage…cut down the trees that need to hold the soil in yer garden…poisoned yer water so everything you grew, ate, and drank made you sick. Why Mother “N”  probably needs a big hug. An “awwwwww” from all of us.

Better yet, she needs us to stop upsettin’ what she put right in the first place.

I just looked out my front window and it’s snowing.  SNOWING!!! and melting as it hits the ground.

Glad I got a pot o vegetable soup brewing. I think I’ll call Sybil Beucannon Hughes and Vilma Yuccch to come have lunch with me. There’s nothing like breaking bread with good friends who will help me hug Mother Nature back into feeling right again.

Keep shinin’.  Maybelle

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