Snow, snow, snow, everywhere I look there are piles of snow. Some are still pristine, sparkling with that diamond like shimmer of ice. Still untouched by footprints or dusted with a fine layer of soot from hard puffing chimneys it gleams with purity.
Other drifts are packed down by plows that eventually came chugging down my street. These uneven mounds are coated with black asphalt and road grime that came up with the efforts of the plow. This snow looks sad and ugly. Its time for it to melt away and take the dirt with it.
I must admit, now, in the midst of February, I do rejoice in the sun coming through the window. Even though the thermometer says its 33 degrees, the sun warms my face. I hear the Pitchers and Catchers have reported for training in Tampa. Spring is on the way.
There is nothing like four distinct seasons. I look forward to each one with their promise of change and new adventure. Each of them boasts their own highlight and dispel any boredom I might have as their predecessor trails away leaving only the good memories.
As I tap away on this laptop it is easy to glance out the North window. Right up against the stockade fence I see three green fronds popping up through the ice crystal snow. Can the Daffodils be far behind?