Yesterday evening, Carl and I spent some time dreaming about visiting the Biltmore Estate over March Break. We visited there on our honeymoon (eleven years ago this July, and doesn’t that boggle the mind) (my mind, anyway. No reason why it should boggle yours) and have always talked about going back. It won’t happen, at least not this year, but even thinking about it and looking it up took us, for a little while, away from the snow and cold of this crazy New England winter we’ve been experiencing.
(We got more snow in one month than the region typically sees in an entire winter. After two months of unnatural winter mildness.)
There is hope even apart from dreaming, though. A few days of sun has caused icicles to drip, a welcome sound to everyone’s ears, especially those suffering from leaks caused by ice dams. It’s true that the snow is piled so high out our windows that it’s hard to believe we’re on the second floor … but that’s because it was all shoveled off the roof at long last. The sky, today, is that clear, pale turquoise shade you only get in March, and the sun is sparkling off the snow.
My birthday is in a week and a half, and I never believe we’re through with major blizzards until we’re past that date (having had far too many birthday parties canceled due to weather as a kid), but even so, I can believe that spring is coming. It’s not here yet, but soon, soon.
“For behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come.” -Song of Solomon 2:11-12
See what I mean about a March sky?