All through January & February, I told myself that March was coming – and with it, Spring. As I shoveled knee-high drifts from the driveway; as Jake, Sam & I stood at the school-bus stop in subzero temperatures; as we all struggled to get around town on glaciated roads, too cold for salt to clear; I clung to that one hopeful mantra: March is coming.
At last, March has arrived, bringing with it…more snow.
This bright (albeit cloudy) morning, we have an inch or so of new snow on the ground; the forecast calls for another three inches this afternoon, and temperatures below freezing until Friday. It’s not quite the snowpocalypse we’ve been expecting / dreading all week, “…but ’tis enough, ’twill serve.”
Perhaps Spring will come next week.
I should abandon the notion that Spring begins in March. Astronomically, it does – the vernal equinox is March 20th – but only troubledomes with telescopes & the neo-pagans who crowd Stonehenge every year care about that. By any human measure, Spring doesn’t kick in until April.
This does not prevent me from expecting it in March, every year; and being disappointed, every year.