Elastic Winter

 Our winter seems to be stretching way out of bounds.  But maybe seasons don't have set boundaries? Is it just our imagination and terms that we have been given to title the cycles that roll through our lives approximately every 12 months.   Is it only winter than can seem long?  I can't think of any complaints about a long fall, or a long spring.  The heat of summer does bring yearnings for some cooler days, but that only means fall, not winter.  Personally, I have always liked living with four seasons, even in this winter of my own life. I am not wanting to move to warmer climates when the cold days arrive. 

This span of cold, snow, wind and wet has been a rare one.  I am old enough to recall the famous "winter of '49" and experienced it as a kid in Wyoming, so my perspective of the rigors of those months have a totally different slant than these of when I am aged and dealing with those added challenges.  The winter of '83 was spent in Idaho, with a little different circumstances--young parenthood, six children, farm wife.  Challenging, intense, but manageable with the right equipment, and an occasional thaw. 

Now this one, winter of 2022-23, so far about 6 months in length,  much snow, heavy wet snow, not quite daily, but several days each week.  And the need for the moisture brought  being acknowledged and appreciated. There have been some drought years. We have had help from family and neighbors in dealing with some of those things like continual shoveling of walks, driveways, of getting our garbage cans to the pickup spot and retrieving them, etc.  When it is such an unending struggle to manage the snow, wondering where else to put it as the scraped piles get higher and higher, the drifts deeper and deeper it becomes hard to maintain the positive attitude.  

It is beautiful, the sparkling waves of white.  Crystal ice hangings, but not the slippery and sliding surface underfoot, threatening falls and possible broken bones and bruises. The nights of the full moon on snowy slopes, glowing in that blue light, often with a coyote choir accompanying the mood.  The feeling of joy when one wakens to discover the snowfall, untouched yet by a footprint or tire mark.  There is that wonderful feeling of peace in the silence after a storm has moved on, up and over the nearby mountaintops, leaving them gleaming when the eventual sun breaks through.  I am ever amazed at all of the beauty that has been provided for us as residents of Mother Earth, no matter the season, or even the time of day.

Now it is mid April,  and some days are warming, and the earth is being nourished with the melting water.  Still, we are expecting more snow.  Stretching, stretching.  Just a glimpse of green blade of grass or even weeds boosts the hope of a growing season to come, part of those seasonal cycles. Winter is not forever.