On Weather

It’s February, and it’s snowing. 

Did you know that winter doesn’t end until March 20th? March 20th is the last day of winter. Right now it is February, and by my very premature calculations, we are smack dab in the middle of winter. But from the information I am gathering from the grocery store checkout line, from Facebook, and from that one person I always see at church—it is supposed to be Spring. 

People always seem surprised by snow in the winter—as if its purpose is to offend every other time it shows up. For myself—I like snow in the winter. Or more correctly, I don’t like snow, but I do like nature doing what it is supposed to do. I like it when life is obedient. So I expect the cold crunch of snow under my boots in winter, with air so cold that it stings your lungs and the air catches in your throat for a moment. In the spring, I expect the tips of tulips and the buds on trees to begin to appear as the world softens, and then suddenly, just to make sure we are paying attention, the warm air hides, only to reappear with the bursting forth of those long-anticipated petals. In summer, I expect it to be sweltering hot—so hot, somedays, that it feels there is no escape. I expect to be able to fry eggs on my car hood—if I wanted to—and for those complainers to tell everyone within earshot that it is “just too hot out there” and though they complained about it when it was here—say that they can’t wait for it to be cooler again. In the fall—the perfect season as described by many—the world begins to show its true colors. I expect cold mornings, and surprisingly hot weeks, as pumpkins near maturity and the riverbeds turn to leaves. 

I expect and like it when the world moves this way. I like the rhythms nature sets forth. I like the predictability of the beat of the seasons, like a metronome helping me keep pace. 

What I don’t like - is when life is disobedient. When a hot day appears in the middle of February or the summer sun forgets to arrive. I don’t like it when our cells fail to behave themselves and children leave this earth before their parents. I don’t like it when families fail to get along, or a neighbor forgets to “love one another.” I don’t like it when children don’t have safe homes, or when this life is not enough for one, and they escape into a world of hallucinations brought forth by drugs. I don’t like it when life is disobedient. 

But snow in February — I like snow in February — nature doing just what it is supposed to do.