Last month, I wrote about how this winter was mostly like spring, and since it behaved like spring, it was spurring me toward thoughts of spring cleaning and yard work. Well, now that it seems to be actual spring, it’s time to start those springtime chores… but I am wary.

I have trust issues where the weather is concerned. I feel that if I start some outdoor projects or consider changing out my snow tires for road tires, I might be inviting all those snowstorms we didn’t get all winter. We all know how unstable and unpredictable spring weather can be in the Rocky Mountain region during more normal years. But this year, spring could completely surprise us. The El Niño and La Niña patterns aside, can we ever really know what to expect here? 

I have things to do. Projects inside and out that beg to be done this “spring.” But some of them require a time commitment and even-tempered weather that won’t go psychotic like a bad trip on LSD. Colorado weather has opinions and isn’t afraid to share them at the most inopportune moments!

So, do I wait until summer for my spring chores? Is each season going to be deferred like winter was? Do I abandon chores altogether and just pick up a hobby like betting? Probably not, though I can see the appeal of wagering against the forecast and calling it productivity.

The reality is, living here means accepting that timing will never be perfect. If I wait for consistently mild temperatures, cooperative skies, and a forecast that doesn’t read like a shrug, I’ll be waiting until October, wondering how summer slipped by while I hesitated. Colorado doesn’t reward certainty; it rewards flexibility.

So, maybe the answer isn’t to delay the chores, but to redefine how I approach them. Choose projects that can survive interruption—a yard half-raked, a garage only partially organized. Keep one eye on the sky and the other on the calendar, knowing full well that both may betray me. Progress, even in fragments, still counts, right?

As for the snow tires, maybe they stay on just a little longer—not out of fear, but out of respect. Experience has taught me that confidence is usually when the late-season storm makes its entrance. Around here, preparation isn’t pessimism; it’s practicality.

Spring here just isn’t a clean transition. It’s a negotiation. One day invites you outside in a T-shirt; the next reminds you where you live. And somewhere in between, the work gets done—not perfectly, not predictably, but persistently.

So, I’ll start the chores. I’ll second-guess the timing. I’ll probably get caught in at least one ill-timed snow squall. But eventually, the garage will be cleaned out, the other projects will inch forward, and the seasons—no matter how confused—will move on.

And if nothing else, I’ll have resisted the urge to take up betting. Which, given the odds around here, is probably my safest bet of all.