It is officially the first day of spring, and I woke up to sixteen inches of fresh snow … adding to the couple of feet of snow already covering my yard. I have not been able to climb over the snowbanks to take down the Christmas wreath on our front door and replace it with something more Lenten. The other day we bought a faux forsythia wreath at the Christmas Tree Shop (where else?) to replace it, but it seems out of place at the present time.
I have not been hearing the sweet sound of maple sap dripping into the buckets nailed to our trees. It has not been getting above freezing long enough for the sap to flow. On Monday I stopped by the town Highway Department to pick up some more sand to coat the ever-present ice on our driveway. I thought that a half a bucket (a five gallon bucket) would suffice until it melted on its own. But I already have to make another trip soon.
Oh, the joys of spring in New Hampshire! I see photos on Facebook of my grandson in western Pennsylvania, and he is playing in the backyard on the grass. I can’t remember what grass looks like.
These are still the final weeks of winter, regardless of what the calendar says. I have decided to enjoy them. There is nothing more beautiful than snow-capped mountains. The air is fresh. The sky is clear. There is a spirit of anticipation in the air. We know the cold can’t last forever. It is supposed to get into the 40’s today! Whoopee!
We have mud season to look forward to. (Where did I put those muck boots?) Then there is black fly season. (Time to buy a new gallon of DEET.) Then we will look back with nostalgia on these fine days of winter when we could walk down the street without getting our feet caked in mud and fending off swarms of bugs by waving our arms like a drunken signalman.
So I will look on the bright side of the first day of spring in New Hampshire. The fresh snow is beautiful. Easter is coming, and that means I will be able to take a vacation to Florida soon.