It came without much warning, only whispers on the wind and a few casual notifications, most of which went ignored at this point in the year. A few inches in March feel much different than a few inches in October. And so yesterday’s snowstorm, throwing more white stuff than wanted or anticipated, dumped its contents on a landscape that was just starting to show the very first signs of spring. Luckily, I wasn’t surprised or duped. Such late-season attacks are expected, and likely to continue throughout April. It’s not quite time to let down your guard. This isn’t over yet.
Take solace in the beauty that winter provides, in the cotton-like decorations clinging to the Chinese dogwood branches, the way the fluffy snow collects around the interior of a sea-urchin-mimicking puff of pine needles.
Yes, there is beauty in this snowfall. It almost makes it worth the annoying aggravation, the slowed commute, the delay of spring bulbs. Almost. And while it comes as no shock, this is still a post I didn’t want to write. We are done with winter. We want to move on.
