April. Where Have You Been.

Remember that scene at the end of 'The Wrath of Khan' were Ricardo Montalban says something to the effect of "With my last breath, I grapple with thee.."? That phrase was running through my brain this morning as I gazed dumbfounded at this Interminable Winter's final cast.

Crossing that rare snowy line into April just to ensure we don't soon forget the long bitter slog it put us through this year.

...that thought followed closely by "sure is pretty, tho'."

As alarming as the late season white was, it didn't come close to the forecasters' dire predictions of a foot or so of the heavy variety. By noontime in fact it was pretty much all gone in the valley. By three o'clock, I was strolling a wet but snowless Arcadia wildlife sanctuary on this day of turning, wistfully contemplating future and past.

It was still a little chilly, but unlike the cold afternoons of autumn, there was the warming hope of gentler days on the way, taking the edge off the breeze. Soon and definitely, all will be green and full of life again.

Problems will begin to feel just that much lighter, energy will seem that much stronger; the long gray winter will shrink and fade to small distant shadow.

The colors will come back, the leaves will rustle, the animals will move;

...and reasons for it all will seem reasonable, once again.