February

Some years, February is the coldest month. Most years, only the second coldest. Always, it is the shortest month, even during leap years like 2024. Kale-month. Salmonath: mud month. Named for Februa, the Roman purification festival, when people were ritually washed. Cabbage month. Mud month. A month whose name I practiced because I needed to get it right: that pesky first "r". It is the month my sister's birthday came, 94 times. She insisted it was on the 13th, although, clearly, it was on the 12th. Mine's on 15 July. But a July 15 long years after her first February. Washington's birthday. Lincoln's birthday. Combined to President's day. Groundhog day. Valentine's day. ....Ahhhh....Valentine's day! Too much packed into such a cold, hard month -- one almost long enough to learn to write 2024 instead of 2023. Time, finally, to let go of all of last year's baggage. Dismal February days creep by; wintry February nights are long. They linger even longer than solitary days in my natal mid-July.