It will arrive any day now. If only I could summon it sooner. Since the winter solstice, my days have been measured by how many additional seconds of daylight I can enjoy before spring makes her official debut.
RRuuuuugggghhh! I groan trying not to think that yet another day of gray clouds threatening snow is on Mother Nature’s agenda. Basking in 360 days of sunshine per year in Colorado spoiled me. Several shadow less Minnesota days keeps me wondering if I will ever again see glistening flakes under a dazzling, sapphire, sky.
A couple of days ago Al Franken declared four more months of winter here in the North Country. It is March, and as I gaze at the blizzard pummeling the deck I realize Al might be right. Another 8 inches of snow has fallen without the slightest suggestion of a patch of blue in the offing.
Memories of bright emerald grass and crocuses’ poking their colorful heads through sugary snow will have to placate my impatience. Breathlessly I check naked branches against the sky straining my eyes for indications of developing buds. Please, please, I whisper to myself, as if my urging will hurry hints of green life. Please let there be traces of blossoms.
Thoughts of storing heavy coats, sweaters, and thick pants are highly anticipated. My feet can hardly wait to be liberated from tight boots knowing sandals will soon replace fuzzy socks that tried their best to keep my toes warm.
Before long my heart will skip a beat when suddenly instead of imagining youthful shoots; whispers of delicate flora will announce the season of new beginnings.
I know eventually spring will follow winter, and that I need to allow nature to take its course. I know patience is a virtue, but I have never claimed to have any virtues much less patience.
Meanwhile, I will enjoy longer days of light, the caress of snowflakes on my frozen cheeks, the sound of crunching snow beneath my boots, and hope I won’t wax nostalgic for cooler weather in July.