As I rooted around for inspirational quotes about February, I came across this ridiculousness:

“February: Our last chance to NOT play in the snow.”

Whichever great philosopher came up with that piece of faux wisdom obviously isn’t from northeast Ohio! We can NOT play in the snow all the way through April. Sometimes even May.

NOT playing in the snow, especially with a shovel, is among my favorite activities in life.

I used to play in the snow many years ago. I gave it up for old age. Or maybe old age crept up on me when I stopped playing in the snow. All I know is a chair, a blanket, a book and a mug of hot chocolate hold more appeal on a snowy February day than a shovel.

So what is there to love about February?

It has been said that this month is the shortest and sweetest month.

Another anonymous great philosopher summed it up this way: “Welcome to February! It’s the finale of the football season and the time when we let a rodent forecast our future.”

Let’s take the rodent first. Phil. Punxsutawney Phil. The groundhog with the sweetest weatherman gig in the universe.

Phil works only one day a year — Feb. 2. If he emerges from his slumber on Gobblers Hill and sees his shadow, Phil declares there will be six more weeks of winter. And then he goes back to bed.

If, on the other paw, he does not see his shadow, Phil says winter is over. And then he goes back to bed.

And for this, Phil is treated like royalty! He is fed, cared for, celebrated, and is the subject of fun, food and parties.

I want Phil’s job. I’ve been practicing the “go back to bed” part every morning of my life.

As a side note, the great philosopher Anonymous also is credited with this remark: “Hey, Phil, can you just ‘gopher’ an early spring this year? Not all of us have a fur coat.”

Elsewhere in February is the Super Bowl, that time of year when Americans everywhere huddle around their screens to watch commercials on purpose. Or puppies and commercials.

Plus, there’s food. Maybe fondue, but that’s more likely on Feb. 14, not Feb. 9.

No, as one great philosopher noted, February is the month when “wingman” takes on a whole different meaning. (Do we have to omit the buffalo sauce from our wing flavors this year since the Bills were eliminated?)

Hey, if Phil can predict the weather with a shadow, how about if I predict the Super Bowl winner by which city has the better wings sauce, a creamy Philadelphia dip or Kansas City barbecue? Seems just as logical to me as letting a rodent predict the weather. I’ll emerge from under the covers, dip my wings — and then go back to bed.

And of course, there’s that big, awesome, wonderful day of love — Feb. 15, the day that all the Valentine’s chocolates go on sale for half price! Totally awesome of you, February!

Someone else said, “Hello, February. Let the defrosting begin.” We on “the North Coast” know better. Here, the “defrosting” means someone licked the icing off the heart-shaped chocolate cake.

A frigid, snow-packed January is in the rearview mirror. A blustery, perhaps even snowy, March can be seen through the windshield, way off in the distance over the horizon.

But this is February, “the perfect combination of romance and football.” And may I add to Mr. Anonymous’ summation, a perfect month for going back to bed for six more weeks. Throw the stupid shovel in the fireplace.

Shiver with Cole at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.