There’s a rumour whirling around here lately. It’s on everyone’s lips. Spring is coming. Everyone is counting down, giving daily updates. SPRING IS COMING. It’s a mantra, a statement of faith and belief. Spring is coming. This winter is going to end. I write this as I look out the window at the inches of snow that still cover our world. Were winters past really not this cold, not this snowy? Was it really that extraordinary that the snow and ice built up on the roof to such an enormous amount that it actually broke the roof of our mudroom? (We woke up at 7 a.m. on New Year’s Day to the house-rattling crash of ice breaking through the roof of our front room with ice chunks so large we actually thought of asking the local Amish if they’d like them for their ice-houses.) I don’t remember another winter that took out so many roofs -there are collapsed barns and apparently abandoned houses down almost every road around here.
In truth, I like winter. Honestly. I love the chill in the air and the fresh fallen snow covering the remains of last year’s gardens (which I really did intend to clear up better, and will for sure next fall). As a knitter, winter is my muse for dreaming up cozy scarfs and sweaters for the kids. Hot summer days leave me longing for cold winter nights in front of the fire with a steaming cup of coffee and a ball of yarn in my lap. Nothing beats a day of taking the girls for downhill sled rides, building snow forts and snow angels, and then heading back inside for hot chocolate. March is weary. We’re tired of winter. The seed catalogs have been poured over and back, marked through with big ideas for planting.
Spring is coming.