If this is some kind of trick, I’m not finding the humor in it. Spring hasn’t sprung, although those who can’t read a calendar think it’s already here.

The bushes outside my office window are budding. Birds are holding conventions in the trees discussing which way to go, and the dog is shedding faster than I can vacuum, so I’m constantly covered in dog hair.

Why give us spring weather if I can’t plant anything yet? The kids gave me a raised garden bed for Christmas, and I’m ready to get my hands in some dirt. There’s nothing to mow, although I’ve contemplated mowing up the leaves, but by the time I get around to it the weather changes again and it’s about to snow.

I realize anything can happen in the month of March and it’s a little odd we’ve only had a handful of snows, even though the weather people predicted 30 inches or more. I’m not complaining, but if it’s not going to snow, I wish it would stay warm long enough to get a project started and finished in the same weekend.

In the back of my mind I wonder what the consequences will be of having a milder winter as we all know Mother Nature will make up for it somehow. Either we’ll be flooded with spring rains or it will be a drought.

The stores aren’t helping the situation. Why are they showcasing potted flowers? It’s the same as having your house full of sweet treats and not being able to eat them.

I’ve walked the acreage more times than necessary, making mental notes of branches that need hauled to the brush pile, leaves piled up in corners and the garden that’s ready to be tilled. The inside spring cleaning is done. I’ve opened all the windows and aired out the house and have cleaned and lined up the gardening tools. I’m pretty sure I’ve become a ticking time bomb and the weather needs to either decide to be a real winter or move on to spring.

I was hoping to shed 20 pounds before I got out the summer clothes but this roller coaster weather is making me cranky, and instead of eating another salad I finally gave in and ate the last honey bun. If the threat of frost doesn’t end soon, last year’s jean shorts may have to become purses for the granddaughters.

I’m in need of mowing therapy. Uninterrupted time cutting grass can quickly turn my mood, clear my head and adjust my attitude.

Sometimes when I get in this funk I’ll walk the aisles of a hardware store. I’m not a shopper, definitely not fashionable, but I can spend quality time thinking about a project that will probably never happen.

I brought home a huge light fixture someone left at the curb. When he saw it sitting next to the garage his only comment was, “Another planter?”

He knows me well.

Sandy Turner lives in Independence, Missouri. Email her at sandydownhome@hotmail.com