Last Minute FlurriesYesterday, as I walked in to town for school in the morning, I was noticing what a drab and dreary day it was. The sun was no where to be seen, and the clouds looked like they were carrying the rain in. Two days before it had been warm and sunny, and I had been hopeful about spring.
And then I spotted them. Sprouting from the ground were a group of crocuses--no bulbs or anything, but the lightest green leaves shooting up that looked like hope to me. I smiled so big, and as I walked up the hill and near the city walls, the countryside around was green again, only the dustiest remains of snow. Things were melting. Things were growing. Spring might just be coming, too.
Then, halfway through my second period class, I looked out the window. It looked like rain, but I looked closer. Snow. SNOW? I glanced at the other teacher and we shook our heads hopelessly.
The weather this year has been a popular topic of conversation. Winter is as confused as the rest of us, one day shoveling a heap of snow onto our hill, the next day melting it all with the warmest rays of sunshine. But still, as I watched the snowflakes getting larger throughout the rest of my classes, I felt the same way I always do that glimpse of a moment when I first spot the snow--like a child. The winter isn't going away, I'm afraid. So I might as well be content with the way the falling snow looks against the backdrop of mountains and hills and the nearby sea. I hate to say it, but: Let it snow. Again.