The Father of all Errors

My Dearest Father Time;

It has come to my attention recently that the weather in my neck of the woods is entirely untimely. At first I believed Jack Frost was entirely to blame. He, however, informed me that he is but an employee of Nature Corp. I then proceeded with the assumption that Mother Nature was to blame; after all, who but the guardian of all that is earth, wind, water, and fire could have such an impact on the passing of the seasons? However, it has come to my attention - by way of Mother Nature's assistant at Nature Corp, who I must say informed me rather shortly about it, that you are the one to speak to about the unnaturally cold weather we are having here in my hometown. She insists that you had rather firmly impressed upon the entire Nature Corp family that it was indeed still meant to be wintertime. With guidance from such an expert opinion, (and none other could rightfully supersede it, to be sure) how could Nature Corp ever be held accountable for following the information so erroneously presented by yourself? It is for this cause that I am addressing this letter to you, Father Time.

I am not one to disparage winter. To the contrary, I am quite in love with fat snowflakes and scenery covered all in a white sparkly sheen. This is true without exception, excluding only those days when I wish to go out, or should I need to leave my home for work, medical, or family reasons, or when the days of cold get so drear and I long to visit my friends, or when I wish for a lovely green day, or any time when the beauty of the white snow has been tainted by shoveling, tire tracks, animal tracks, a stain of grime, or the passing of the long-ago accepted deadline for the coming of spring.

It is this last point to which I wish to address you. Several weeks ago the deadline came. It was a lovely day, perhaps just slightly too chilly for a proper spring day, but not so biting as to be unacceptable for the very first day of spring. The several days following were, indeed, exactly as spring is publicized. I was, myself, certainly very pleased with the progression of the weather at that time, the soft and slightly cool air, and the promise of green in the aroma of the earth. Unfortunately, some few days beyond this and the weather took a decidedly unconventional and awkward turn for the lower temperatures.

I say awkward because I had been quite fervent, and heartfelt - I assure you, in my fond farewells to wintertime. We kissed lightly on each cheek, held hands, and stared deeply into one another's eyes for just the most appropriate amount of time. I shed a single tear! Then, as is customary when bidding a loved one farewell for an extended period of time, I dabbed that tear fervently away from my cheek with a white handkerchief of winter-themed embroidery while sniffling gently.

You will, after this description, understand exactly how awkward it would be to see winter once again so soon; it was far too intimate a farewell to be meeting afresh in so short a timeframe. And yet, there again came winter, led by Jack Frost on a drunken rampage, followed by a host of thick snow clouds which proceeded to unload a full three inches snow on our quaint villa in an unseemly display. Receiving snow at this time might not have been so bad if we had received what are in their own appropriate season a lovely fluffy and friendly flurry of flakes, instead of the pushy, insistent flakes, (with quite an unwelcomed greediness for groundcover) that we received this past week as winter pushed past its normal boundaries.

Furthermore, following this rave from the snowflakes, did we see the lovely warm rays of a welcome springtime sun and the warmer air that should rightfully exist at that time? No. No heartfelt sun, or weather that was warming ever so slowly, but a frigid and untimely cold. Cold that encouraged the rambunctious behavior of the snow and invited it, quite against my own advice and wishes, to continue on our grounds as common squatters.

And so we had 60 million squatters on our property. These squatters have persisted for 53 and one half hours as of the writing of this letter! This is extremely unacceptable! Insomuch that were it permissible I would indeed follow the sentence immediately preceding this one with not only one, but two, three, or - dare I even say - four very strong and meaningful marks of exclamation. As it is not acceptable, please do understand that I mean these words with only the most passionate depth with which they can be presented. Moreover, I am severely distressed to find that I must point out how such an oversight as this indicates only the highest level of incompetence.

I therefore firmly request that you correct the error immediately. Please inform Mother Nature and all of Nature Corp of the accurate time and season to which the weather should be adhering in the predicable and organized pattern of seasons set forth by your forefathers. I furthermore request that you evict posthaste, and with extreme prejudice, the disagreeable squatters still menacing me from my lawn, including that rabble-rouser Jack Frost.

With Greatest Admiration and love,

"Still Freezing when it should be Springtime in Georgia"