It's Early Spring in The Bleak Midwinter

It all started three years ago when I read Secret Garden and decided the best place to read that book was outside (it was a chilly spring with singing birds and no bugs and sweet, gentle breezes and...you get the picture). I practically lived outside. The next year (still early spring, somewhere around my birthday) the book was Jane Austen's Emma. This past spring I was unfortunately preoccupied and my concentration skills were rather limited.
Well, now my point is that my brain is registering the end of December as early spring (mainly due to the position of the sun, the color of the sky, the color of the grass, the lack of spiders and other beasts of smaller nature, the breeze, the chilly air that has that certain feel of early spring in it, and the lack of snow). The result: I have finished both books I got for Christmas and am twenty pages into King Lear when I should be studying Greek.

Of course, considering my more than occasional inability to get through a book despite my love of reading, I'm not complaining too much. I just wish I'd stop thinking about my birthday and then turn around and, with longing and the sadness of lost, but wonderful days, remember that Christmas was last Sunday.
Also, I did fill out 13 verb charts for Greek, that I should have had done a month ago, yesterday.