Category: default || By jt3y

The hills above Our Fair City were alive this morning with the sound of chirping birds. The swallows return to San Juan Capistrano, and the spatsies return to North Bittyburg, I guess. I even heard a hoot owl last night: "Whoo! Whoo!" Who? Me, that's who.

I suppose we could still get a big snowstorm, but the National Weather Service is saying that temperatures should remain in the 40s and 50s through the next week or so, and the only precipitation expected is rain. We ought to be seeing some blossoms on the trees soon --- I haven't seen any yet, but I haven't really been looking, either.

I don't mind winter that much, mostly because I'm not a summery-type person. I'm not interested in hanging out on the beach or playing softball; sitting on the porch with a beer is more my speed. I also can't stand bugs (as far as I know, they're no big fan of mine, either), and winter is notable for its near total lack of them. The return of the birds --- which I enjoy --- means the imminent return of flies, fleas, mosquitos and assorted other pests.

Also, while the winter may be cold, you can always put on more clothes. Come August, when the temperature and the humidity are both hovering in the 90s, and my shirt is clinging to me like a wet rag, I'll be looking at Alaska travel brochures again with wistful longing. I much prefer fall --- baseball playoffs, cool nights, the sweet smell of falling leaves.

Still, the gray griminess of winter gets to me after a while, and spring is most welcome. Rain washes away the dirt and dust that settles on everything, and without rain, everything around the Mon-Yough area seems to take on a pallor in the wintertime. The tons of rock salt and cinders that road crews spread only accentuate the crud with a fine white layer of powder that really brings out the highlights of the ugliness. In some parts of the country, where the snow tends to stick around, the crumminess of winter isn't so noticeable, but Southwestern Pennsylvania doesn't get quite enough snow to hide the grit.

Then, too, by March in the Valley, people have started to forget what colors look like --- everything is in muted shades of brown, tan, beige and gray, with salt and cinder accents. Sure, people put bright red and green decorations out at Christmastime (sorry, at Christmakwanukah), but those colors are so artificial that they don't count. Besides, after a week or two they're buried under a thin coating of crud like everything else. While the first redbird or tulip that makes an appearance in March almost hurts your eyes, it's the good kind of hurt.

So here's to birds singing outside my window, to trying to get the lawnmower started, to Easter baskets, to taking the snow tires off the car, and to bringing in the storm windows and hanging the screens. Plus, Pirates' opening day is only 18 days away, and you know what that means: It's the last time this season that the Buccos won't have a losing record.

Because let's face it: I'm happy about spring's imminent arrival, but I'm not delusional.

...

Update, 4 p.m.: Looks like reports of Mike Madison's departure were a hoax. Professor Pittsblog is emphatically not leaving. Someone appears to be having a little fun at his expense, which is pretty immature, but sadly, not unheard of:

In the comments to my last post (on the current production at the Jewish Theatre of Pittsburgh, which you all really should go see), someone posted a couple of comments under what purports to be my name. Allegedly, I'm moving back to California; I never really liked it here; sorry to the people I misled, etc.

Sorry to disappoint you, whoever you are, but I'm not moving back to California. I still do like Pittsburgh. And I intend to continue to do so, and say so, here.

What? Somebody wrote something on the Internet that wasn't true? But that's unpossible! Anyway, we apologize for falling for it. But still, I wouldn't blame Madison if he wanted to move to California, Pa. Seriously, 29 cent cheeseburgers at Pechin's are hard to beat.