Oh, El Nino, my precious little one, how I love you.
How I love that it's January 6th, and you, in your generosity, are pouring sun and warm breezes through the open doors and windows of my home.
How I love that it's January 6th and the warm sun and breezes have shifted my cleaning schedule from "spring" to "now," and so the space behind the fridge has been cleaned, and all the stainless steel appliances have been shined, and the windows are about to be washed, and there's laundry being done and the casserole that I made for lunch (casserole for lunch! see the crazy things you make me do?) was acceptable to even the children.
How I love that I'm thinking about taking a trip to the lake for a hike, or maybe even a wade. It's warm enough, because of you.
How I love that there are frogs peeping in the marsh right now.
How I love that there are moths flittering about the porch lights in the evening.
How I love that I can walk out of the house into air fit for May, with no thought of jacket or mittens or frostbite.
Why, I even love the sound of the motorcycle gangs roaring up and down the road right near our house. That's how insane with love you make me, my dear sweet El Nino.
Oh, El Nino, you breathe life into holiday-heavy limbs, you buoy the spirit, you freshen our stuffy home with your sweet breath.....every moment with you is refreshment, a drink from a restorative meteorological phenomenon of new birth.
Even though there are those scoffers and unbelievers out in the thin-lipped harsh world who say that you're a harbinger of a bad spring, and that your presence means that there's greater chance of insect-borne diseases in the summer, and that you arrival announces the inception of a miserable harvest, I would urge you NOT to listen to them, for they are the bitter apples in the wide green yard of my adoration for you. Who CARES what they say, those hardened miserable shells of doomsayers, those bleaters of global warming, those caretakers of misery. I do not, nor should you.
Luscious, sensual El Nino.....how I love you. Say you'll stay for just a little longer, my golden warmth of winter. Say you'll stay.