There's a very simple reason why I don't feel sad when March has arrived, officially bringing spring with it, but the weather forecaster mutters a bit grimly about a coming snowfall. That reason is this:
Beauty.
It's not as if, when snow falls in March, we excitedly bundle ourselves in snowsuits and boots and hats and gloves and burst from the house to make snowmen and pack down a slippery track for sledding and eat big handfuls of the flaky white stuff. To be truthful, snowfall this time of year arouses little excitement to be outside in it.
And yet.
It is so beautiful.
No other form of precipitation holds a candle to the loveliness that descends from the sky when it snows. There is nothing like the feeling of peace, and joy, and contentment, and coziness that automatically fills my soul when the white stuff shows up. Nothing compares.
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As much as I love living in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia for so many different reasons, there is something hard about life here. Well, five somethings, to be precise.
November, December, January, February, and March.
It's not that there aren't days of beauty and wonder in those months - of course there are! But those are also the months that frequently sport the bare-branches, brown-and-dead-grass, only-the-evergreens-show-life look that I (sheepishly admit that I) just don't care for.
Sometimes to encourage myself as late fall and winter approach, I tell myself, "Well, Davene, count 'em up. There are seven months of beauty here, and only five that lack. At least the majority of the year, there is abundant beauty right around you for you to feast your eyes upon! Besides, in the beginning of November the trees are almost always still clinging to some vibrant colors, and sometimes if spring-like weather comes early, March brings the greening of the grass and the blossoming of some flowers. So really, it's not even five months that are (to put it bluntly) ugly!"
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I didn't think too much about my desire for - dare I say, need for? - beauty until I found myself living in a small apartment on a plain city street in Tel Aviv. As much as I loved being in Israel and was overjoyed at the opportunity to live there, I couldn't help but think that everything around me looked the same, a little shabby, and frankly not too beautiful. At least there I could head a few blocks west and gaze out over the Mediterranean to fill up my soul when its beauty tank was running low! But looking out the windows of our apartment gave me no such respite.
Until someone came along and planted a tree. A single, young sapling on the other side of Pinsker Street from us.
I loved that tree, for the beauty it gave even in its beginning, but even more so for the promise of great beauty in years to come.
My delight in that tree - just a little tree, how silly! - made me realize for the first time that my eyes craved loveliness; and that even though I wasn't the type to satisfy that urge by getting my hair colored and cut in the newest styles, or putting fancy, fake designs on my fingernails, or checking out the latest in makeup fashions, or shopping until I dropped to find just the perfect outfit and accessories, I still had a deeply-rooted need for beauty.
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And that brings us back to snowy days in March, when I look out the window and think, "Well, if it can't be 70 degrees and sunny with a lawn that's newly green and tulips in bloom, then I sure am glad it's snowing!"
Because I never, ever, ever get tired of this particular form of beauty.
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P.S. Other reasons March snows are nice:
1. They usually don't last long.
2. Often they melt so fast that we don't even have to shovel.
3. They don't hinder our plans much (unless we have the sad misfortune of getting a snow on choir days, as happened this year) because Jeff can drive just fine in snow so he gets out and about as usual, and the rest of us stay home cozy as kittens.
4. They give us an opportunity to say a proper goodbye to winter, knowing that (likely) we won't have more snow until next winter rolls around (unless we get one of those elusive April or May snows!).
5. They remind us to wear our turtlenecks and other cold-weather gear one more time before we pack it away, in favor of short sleeve shirts and other warm-weather clothes.
That last reason? That's why I dressed Moriah in a purple shirt WITH SNOWFLAKES ON THE SLEEVES today. By next winter, she'll be way too big to wear it. Today was the perfect day to be her last time in it. :)
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