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I took this picture of our porch a few days before Christmas. The pansies, a flower beloved in Virginia, are a riot of color.

As I write this, it is 70-degrees outside. It is also January 7, and this Ohio gal, who abandoned the Lake Effect for Virginia, is grappling with the glorious consequences of global warming. My environmentally-sensitive conscience tells me I should feel guilty, but my heart tells my conscience to go pound salt while skipping every other beat with joy—a symptom of that wondrous malady known as spring fever.

I have always loved this song; it reminds me of my mother. Every time it came on the radio, she’d begin singing along to it. Now, every time the weather turns balmy—especially when it shouldn’t—the lyrics wind around my heart like a soft ribbon. I feel a tug, think of my mother, and begin to sing about jumpy puppets on strings. An added bonus of this clip is that Shirley Jones sang this on The Danny Thomas Show. Yesterday would have been Danny Thomas‘ 100th birthday. (It was also Joan of Arc’s 600th birthday, but that’s another story.)

What’s the weather like where you are?

Related Articles from TMSW:

“Marlo & Me—Prologue”
“A Tale of Two Deaths: Losing My Mother to Alzheimer’s—Part I”