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March: The Transition Month 2

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March has arrived in our parts like a lion this new year.  As I sit writing 4 to 6 inches of powdery snow is on the ground on top of a thin sheet of ice thanks to the rain and sleet from last evening. We could get another 2 to 4 additional inches of snow before precipitation ends this afternoon. The temperature which has been gradually falling over night from the 50’s has now slipped into the teens and is predicted to continue falling perhaps to a single digit. Work for all but a few hardy souls who “must show,” and those adventurers that can’t bring themselves not to show, has been cancelled. Having been awake until after three in the morning I slept until past ten and at eleven-thirty am just finishing my first cup of coffee. Vicki is asleep on the sofa in the living room - she’s always been an early riser - and is now is enjoying a nice nap this late morning. All is quiet and pretty. I’m a little sad as I’m fully aware that I’m perhaps - probably - enjoying the last frozen moments of winter. Beneath this lovely lacy veil of white the transition to spring has already begun. In a few short weeks everyone will have forgotten this chill and all attention will have turned to the blooming cherry trees along the tidal basin. To be sure there will still be a nip in the air but only in the mornings and gray skies will have given way to intense blue and sunshine.

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I’ve always enjoyed the snow as do most of us I think even though most adults seem to loose with age the ability to casually enjoy the wonder of snow. It’s interesting to me how as adults we tend to withhold from ourselves these small delights. Sure, we go on trips to ski resorts and hike to the top of snow covered mountains but we dismiss simple pleasures like crunchy walks to the store, sledding, show angels, and heaven forbid, spontaneous snowball fights.  Bundle up and get out there! Don’t over do it, but walk about a bit while it’s falling, look up, stick out your tongue and taste it as sprinkles across your face.

Last snow fall my son Jon and I trudged through driving snow for a cup of coffee. It took us fifteen minutes to get there. We could have driven it in five or not gone at all. I have plenty of coffee at home and I brew better. That wasn’t the point. It was taking advantage of a special moment that nature had provided to spend time with my son and we both enjoyed the hell out of it. 

So, show, sand, water, whatever the seasonal gift, get out there and get it.  It’ll be gone soon enough.

© LEE BETTON 2019