Growing up in the tundra of the western Pennsylvania mountains, February 2nd, Groundhog Day, was a legitimate holiday. As a school kid, we so looked forward to the “prognostications” of Punxsutawney Phil. We anxiously awaited, would we have 6 more weeks of winter? Most of the time he did see his shadow-probably because the television lights lit up the gray Pennsylvania winter day. Sadly, it would leave us to trudge through 6 more weeks of boots, mittens, and stepping through crusted-over snow to get the mail from the common bank of mailboxes at the end of my yard. I can still hear the crunch, crunch under my rubber fleece-lined boots.  

But on those magic days like today, Phil would not see his shadow, would not return to his borrow, and we could count on an early spring. Now that I live in Florida, (I moved to the happiest place on earth) and it was warm enough for no jacket, I am a bit nostalgic today and this post reflects those sentiments.

It's a thing - On Wednesday morning, I c...