Farewell February

february days - 1


We’re coming out the other side of February.  Even as there are snow showers every day and the wind is raw, the skies really are brightening and the daylight is expanding.  Don came down with a mean cold over the week-end and the winter pace in our household slowed down even more.  High winds and waves and spitting snow made it seriously inhospitable outdoors.  As he’s moved from bed to bath to couch, I have three different books going in three different comfy chairs throughout the house.  We’re both addicted to the PBS Series, Victoria, which we watch from our dark and cozy library when the light leaves the sky.  Snow’s covered the ground since November 1st, and winter has gone on so long that it’s hard to imagine another way to live at this point.  I read in the Washington Post this morning, under the photo of cherry blossoms, that spring has sprung 20 days early there this year.  They talked about the stress put on plants by a shortened winter, and how they need that period of time each year to turn off and conserve energy.  It feels like we’ve been turned off for long enough here in the north country.

March always changes everything.  The Full Worm Moon is on the very first day of the new month and a Blue Moon on the very last.  In many of winter’s months, we never get to see the moon, but with the opening skies, it has been magnificent out my window in the middle of the night.  March is always a heart-breaker.  Each snow storm with bitter winds, and temperatures which never seem to climb, are so discouraging.  But, unlike February, in which it’s best to be resigned to unending winter, there is hope in March.  So, farewell, February, fare thee well.

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here
A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.
–  Emily Dickinson, A Light Exists in Spring





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