It's snowing. It's supposed to snow tonight, tomorrow, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. And they are talking about a "monster" storm for next weekend. Can I cry now?
Usually by this time of year, I am counting down the days until ski season is over because I am ready for a break from lots of inn guests. This year? I'm just sick of snow.
Yes, yes. I know. I live in Northern New England. Skiers pay the bulk of our bills for the year. When it doesn't snow in the winter, we start obsessing about money, which is not fun. Snow is good. I know this.
And yet . . . I am so ready for spring.
The calendar says spring is coming in 20 days. The stores clearly think spring is coming. Hopefully the kids won't outgrow or wear out anything else between now and June, because the clothes currently for sale in the stores won't be appropriate for our weather until then.
And Easter. Easter is three weeks from tomorrow. The earliest Easter since 1913. I like my holidays, and I like them to match up with the appropriate season. (Good thing I'm not Australian.) It's so much easier to speak of Jesus being the light in our darkness when you are at the darkest time of the year. Similarly, the celebration of Jesus as the promise of new life belongs in the spring, when trees are budding and bulbs are flowering. The traditional Easter greeting and response, "Christ is risen!" "He is risen indeed!" is a little harder to feel when everything around you is still frozen in the dead clutches of winter.
Sigh. I think I'm going to go buy myself some tulips.
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