by Steve Barber
Dear Punxsutawney Phil,
As I write this letter you are no doubt hibernating in your warm burrow, dreaming whatever it is that groundhogs dream. But in a few days some top-hatted fool is going to drag your furry behind out into the morning air and call on you to undertake a very important task.
Before that happens, Phil, we of the Northern Hemisphere want you to understand something. We are tired of snow. We are tired of below zero temperatures. We are tired of winter. Only you have the power to make it go away.
Some have suggested you don't dictate when winter ends, but only predict it. Yet I have seen the smirk on your face year after year as you stare ever so innocently at your shadow. I know better.
So let me put it to you this way, Phil. You will not see your shadow this year. Do you want to know why you won't see your shadow? Because I have recipes, Phil. And I'm not afraid to use them.