Lamb-y?

If spring were a person, I’d accuse her of moodiness or, at the very least, a serious case of indecisiveness. Take the nursery rhymes, for instance: in like a lion, out like a lamb; April showers bring May flowers . . .

Hands on hips, right toe tapping, I ask this question day in and day out this time of year--Which is it, spring?  Are you a lion or a lamb?   Are you showers or flowers? I'd really like to know right about now because this morning I scraped ice off my windshield and now I'm rolling up my sleeves in the sun.

Truly Spring, you're a trying friend. You whisper to me of the warmer days, teasing me with tales of sunshine and strawberries you say are coming soon.  But the next day you blow snow down my neck. . . such a tease!

So really now Spring, can't you be more lamb-y? Can't you be more, well, spring-y?

And soon. Please soon? I forgot how to dress myself warmly and sweaters are really becoming a drag.