“April is the cruelest month” said Eliot, but I think he’s full of crap. February is the cruelest month. It’s brutal and harsh and lacking in color. I feel starved for yellows and pinks and dark, lush greens.
To combat my winter blues, I’ve started buying fresh flowers every week. These are the ones that seem to stay the best (I can never remember their name) and though not normally my first choice, I’m coming to appreciate anything alive and blooming and these bloom forever. Like that rose in Beauty & The Beast except for instead of keeping some monster prince alive, they keep me sane—at least until the snow melts.