Dear Mother Nature,
We need to have a serious little chat.
First of all… it is Memorial Day Weekend. This is not some random Tuesday in February where you can casually throw freezing rain at us and nobody notices. This is one of the holiest weekends of small-town American tradition.
This is the weekend we are supposed to be outside planting gardens with unrealistic optimism and absolutely no regard for frost warnings.
This is the weekend of:
hauling out giant bags of potting soil,
convincing ourselves we need “just one more hanging basket,”
and standing in nursery parking lots debating whether we really have room for another tomato plant.
The people of Keuka have plans.
We are supposed to be tucking tiny little vegetable plants into the earth like proud parents sending children off to summer camp. We are supposed to be arranging petunias, dahlias, geraniums, and marigolds into planters while pretending we know what “full sun” actually means.
Instead?
You have delivered one weather-related emotional breakdown after another all spring.
Rain.
Wind.
Forty-degree mornings.
Random cold snaps.
That one weird sunny day that tricked everyone into putting away their winter coats before immediately punishing us for our optimism.
Honestly, enough is enough.
Do you know how emotionally confusing it is to wake up craving flip-flops and iced tea… only to discover we are one gust of wind away from needing flannel pajamas and emotional support soup again?
And let’s discuss the gardeners for a moment.
These poor people are out here checking weather apps every fourteen minutes like stockbrokers during a market crash.
“Should I plant the tomatoes?”
“No.”
“What about now?”
“Still no.”
“What about after lunch?”
“Absolutely not, Barbara.”
Meanwhile, the Mennonite nurseries are bustling, trunks are loaded with flowers, and every single one of us is pretending we totally understand what we are doing while silently praying the hanging baskets survive the week.
Even the birds seem irritated.
The squirrels have attitudes.
The chipmunks are openly mocking us.
And somewhere around Keuka Lake, a husband is currently being sent back outside for the third time to cover the plants “just in case.”
Mother Nature… respectfully… pull yourself together.
People have picnics to attend.
Hot dogs to burn.
Pasta salads to make.
Boats to uncover.
And at least three people around Keuka are emotionally prepared to wear white pants for the first time this year.
We cannot keep doing this.
So on behalf of gardeners, grandmothers, nursery workers, boat owners, and every person currently staring out their window holding a coffee cup with disappointment in their soul…
Please.
Give us a little sunshine.
A little warmth.
And maybe—just maybe—three consecutive days without frost warnings, sideways rain, or wind gusts strong enough to relocate patio furniture into the next county.
Sincerely,
Everyone Around Keuka Trying Very Hard To Stay Patient
Stay Rooted. Stay Keuka.
