Li'l Febber

Take the initials of all the months of the year and put them in order, starting with this one.

FMAMJJASONDJ.

Now spread them out, add a little punctuation, and voila! A mythical radio personality, big as the year, spinning an orbit's worth of "music of the spheres"--I'm talkin' about

"FM-AM" J. JASON, D.J.

Which seems to support the theory that February should have been the first month. Except that it does make a really good second month. You probably need that slow start in January, a month to get used to the same-as-last-year-only-worse tsuris (earthquakes and other miseries).

And then you get to turn the page to a cute month. Shorter by three days. And right off the bat, tomorrow, another contemplative, will-it-or-won't-it Janus-day involving animals and weather--a kind of taking auspices. Then a steady feed of events:

Groundhog Day. (I know I already included it, but I WOODCHUCK it all for you, Valentine!) The Superb Owl. Abe and George. The first cardinal song that's not an idle sound check. Pussy willows, I believe. And Mardi Gras! And Purim! And President's Day. To say nothing of the month as a whole: Black History month, of course. Also National Cherry Month. National Canned Fruit Month (in pear juice, of course, not heavy syrup). And American Heart Month, which my dad may have had something to do with. (More on which to come.)

But then you have a bit of the December problem. Where's the real February behind the events? We know it can be cold and nasty, like being trapped in a cabin with a sawed-off trigger-happy kid who shows a row of pointy little teeth whenever he grins. But it's equally prone to thaw.

In which case the cabin door unlatches to reveal a cardinal among the pussy willows with a cherry redundantly in his bill, and the kid shyly hands me a red construction paper and cut-doily card smelling sweetly of liberry paste, saying "Hapy Febuary I was only kiding."