If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?*

Statistically, the coldest quarter-year in these parts runs from December 8th to March 8th. We haven't reached the equinox yet, but we have advanced the clocks, so I am declaring that spring is here. My knees, however, still need to be convinced.

Up until recently, I loved winter. It meant trips north to the White Mountains, downhill skiing at Attitash and Bretton Woods, cross-country at Jackson and Windblown, and suppers at the Thompson House Eatery and the Red Parka Pub. All of a sudden, the idea of riding a high speed quad during a squall just seems...well, cold. The annual winter pilgrimage to Florida, or more recently, the Caribbean, now feels more like a necessity than a luxury.

I've always been a weather watcher (or in the words of my daughter, a "weather freak"). As a teacher, I took the same delight in a snow day that my students did, even though for me it meant three hours shoveling the driveway. During large storms, I'd patrol from window to window, rooting on the elements. My over-preparedness in terms of supplies and emergency equipment was legendary. I don't know when the change occurred, but I no longer wish for storms. I worry about wind damage, frozen pipes, and the huge white pine beside the bedroom window.

So spring, such as it is on the Massachusetts coast, is more than welcome. We are fortunate here to have a long and temperate autumn, but spring tends to be wet and raw, abruptly giving way to summer heat without much of an interlude.

Nevertheless, I have some springtime errands to run. I went to the Beverly Port Marina this week to pay for the slip for Kilty's Wake. I'll be dropping off my reels at Al's Bait and Tackle for new line as soon as Al re-opens for the season. The yard and the decks will require my attention, as will the pool yard at the Quincy house.

Next month, we'll be traveling down to Bethany Beach, Delaware to spend some time with my brother and his wife. Then he and I are heading south in his new Toyota FJ Cruiser, Boston Whaler in tow. In theory, we're going to check on properties he owns near Beaufort, S.C., and St. Mary's, Georgia. In actuality, we're just hoping to stay out of jail.

*Shelley, "Ode to the West Wind"