Oh yeah, somebody already thought of that. We daydream about daffodils and crocuses and lift our gaze to look out at what was a yard pregnant with spring only to find a late winter blanketing of snow. February has been especially volatile this year, with even the most experienced weathermen unable to keep up with the feints and jabs of late winter. Monday's prognostications for a nice weekend are obsolete by Wednesday and Wednesday's are conveniently forgotten by Friday. Nature reflects a restiveness that seems global in its reach.
Nothing ever seems to get settled.
The talks in Rambouillet between Serbia and representatives of the Kosovo Liberation Army end in a no-decision. Hilary won't say whether she will run for the seat being vacated by Patrick Moynihan. Old charges of sexual misconduct by President Clinton raise new doubts about conservatives' willingness to forgive and forget. I tire of such worries and step outside and look upward at the stars, glistening in the clear winter sky. Orion's Belt rises in the Southern sky, and next to it, dimly, the Seven Sisters.