Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow?

Ah -- winter again in Olney! After last year's snowless, eerily mild "winter", the natural order of things has returned with below-freezing temperatures. Last "winter" my daughter never had a chance to wear her new snow boots, the brand-new snow saucer collected dust, and my tulips came up too early (the ones I planted in Tiptoe Through the Tulips). If someone does not believe in global warming, I present last year's "winter" as creepy proof.

At the Olney Swim Center on Wednesday, I overhead several people admitting in hushed voices that they wanted true winter weather this year. "I hate to say this, but we need the freezing temperatures ... at least to kill off germs," one woman whispered. "I hope we get at least some snow," her friend murmured while glancing around to make sure she was not overheard.

After Friday's snowfall -- of only about an inch, but we'll take what we can get -- my daughter donned her snow pants, pulled on her still-new snow boots (I actually might get my money's worth) and gleefully slid down a nearby hill on the previously unused, dusted-off snow saucer (new tags finally and legitimately cut off).

I agree with Richy Slyon's celebratory posting on the return of snow (Sniff, sniff. Love the Snow)  ... but only up to a point.  After last week's 4-day weekend, the kids returned to a full day of school on Wednesday only to have a delayed opening on Thursday. And then on Friday, MCPS closed schools 2 1/2 hours early in anticipation of ... the 1-inch snowfall. I am from New Jersey, where schools do not close unless we are attacked by a blizzard of 12 inches or more! Monday morning's weather forecast predicts ice and I sense another delayed opening. Yes, I welcome the return of true winter but be careful what you wish for.

The Birds

Sunday's warm temperatures brought people out and about; I went for a walk and saw kids playing and adults taking down holiday decorations. My husband decided to wash my car, because:

• he is sweet;
• he wanted to wash the salt and sand off the car;
• he didn't purchase a car wash (and save .20 a gallon!) while pumping gas at Fletcher's earlier; and
• the birds are at it again.  

Our feathered friends haven't flown south for the winter, probably because Olney winters have been unseasonably warm recently. And like local deer, the birds seem to have found plenty to eat, as evinced by their multicolored droppings all over our driveway, cars, and garage door. Yes, you read that correctly -- garage door. How does THAT even happen? How globs falling from the sky manage to land on a vertical surface partially covered by an overhanging roof defies physics to me!

My poor husband frequently laments the birds' attraction to our cars as toilets. However, I pointed out to him that unlike the doomed people in Hitchcock's macabre classic The Birds, we are not being attacked by homicidal fowl. I asked, "Which situation would you rather be in: menaced by beasts of flight or having your car pooped on by them?"

Besides, having bird droppings land on you is supposedly a sign of good fortune. If this superstition is true, we should win the next lottery.