Putting up with the snow.

I call my self a winter lover, and that’s true—but it’s late March, the day before the first day of spring, and it’s still snowing. The forecast shows no relief from winter, either. It’s the kind of year where the cold is in the bones, reluctant to let go.

I’ve been hiding from it, and that doesn’t do anyone any good. So today, I peeled myself out of the house and headed to the woods, determined to find small signs of spring. And I did: returning geese, the thawed river, and the soggy ground. Spring is coming, even if winter is holding on tight.