Dear God:
Today, I am thankful for a glimpse of spring through winter's window.
It's Saturday. I sense that spring has indeed arrived early. After madly dancing their way through our neighborhood Friday night, March's "in like a lion" winds finally die down so we can enjoy a glorious day. The temperatures hover in the 70s, forcing me to shed my sweatshirt as I walk T in the park and pick-up trash in the culvert. The sun's intense heat bakes my arms, now tender and pale after hibernating beneath long sleeves for several months. We end the day with a neighborhood cook-out, celebrating two birthdays: mine on the 15th and Debbie's on the 16th.
Sunday morning, we awake to an inch of snow on the ground and much colder temperatures - definitely an indoor day. We feel tired and heavy, probably our bodies reacting to the low pressure systems sweeping through the valley. Even T is sluggish. For our afternoon walk, he reluctantly finishes just two laps around the park.
This morning, high-spirited storms from New Mexico arrive, bringing a steady shower of snow flakes and chilly winds from the south. T and I hike briskly along the trail, stopping here and there to study footprints left by local wildlife.
I talk to Mr. Winter, begging him to make this snowstorm his last one of the season. I explain that I have lots to do in the garden and want to get a head start on planting. He vows to consider my request. I have my doubts about his promise. Besides, I don't trust him. You see, historically speaking, March is the snowiest month along the Front Range, and it's only the 14th.
For this blessing, I am grateful.
Amen.
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