February 20: Snows Melted, Forty Degrees, Thankful Thaw

The snows melted and ran away.  The streams and ditches bubbled and chattered with rushing water.  A sparrow with a streaky breast arrived and sang.  The light strengthened, the mornings came sooner.  Almost every morning there was another new lamb in the sheepfold.  The goose was sitting on nine eggs.  The sky seemed wider and a warm wind blew.  The last remaining strands of Charlotte's old web floated away and vanished.

Today felt like this passage.  The temperatures in the Upper Peninsula hit forty degrees, and the sidewalks and streets were full of slush and water.  Stepping outside today made me believe that spring will eventually come.  After two months of freezing temperatures, this part of the world deserved a little thaw.


That's what I'm thankful for this Thursday evening.  I'm thankful for the smell of mud in the air and the bare pavement of the sidewalks.  For two whole days, I haven't had to wear gloves or a hat.  I actually saw somebody on campus today wearing shorts.  It's been a splendid 48 hours.

Of course, there's a winter storm bearing down on us as I type this post.  I just checked the radar a little while ago.  It's one big blob of pink and blue and white slowly crawling over the U.P.  There are  blizzard warnings and winter storm warnings.  Snow.  Sleet.  Freezing rain.  My daughter is praying for a day off from school tomorrow, and she's probably going to get it.

Putting all that aside, however, I am going to hold on to this brief reminder of April and May.  I even saw a patch of dead grass this afternoon.  A very small patch.

Tonight, Saint Marty is going to dream of lilacs blooming is his backyard.

I know they're coming!