I refuse to be beaten.  It is spring in Michigan. Once again I am writing about the weather as we Michiganders are wont to do. And even though I have previously admitted to recognizing the fits and starts of a new season's arrival, I am in the mood to move on. Tonight the low will be around 11.  Tomorrow's high is forecast to hit 31.
And so, even though we have a yard covered with a hard candy shell of ice over whipped marshmallow snow, I am turning the page:  While the temperature dictates I walk outdoors in flannel lined pants, coat, scarf, and gloves, I've got my Topsiders on.  And tonight, I'm drinking iced tea.  You can surrender or you can fight back. I choose to fight.