The Death of Imagination

I think of this time of year as the Battle of Spring and Winter. Winter, of course, is Old Man Winter, and Spring starts out as a little baby and grows up into a young man who can finally defeat Old Man Winter. (Why I think both of them are male -- hmm?)

The baby is having a ball right now, and has brought up the snowdrops and winter aconite. But I imagine the Old Man will deal him a harsh blow soon, and he'll have to retreat and regroup.