In October, then the first few flakes fly, it signals at long last an end to the summer ragweed allergy season; all those nasty plants will be finally frozen and shut down. The big white flakes tumble down and kids rush out to catch them on their tongues and make trails as the ground is covered. It is cute when the Halloween pumpkins have a tam of snow. And those early autumn accumulations usually give way to thaws and a few more warm days.
In December, we all long for a white Christmas and the idea of snow for the holidays is oh so romantic and fun. We want enough to coat the ground but not so much so that it will interfere with our travels to and from holiday celebrations and gatherings. We are willing to dress warmly and walk and drive more carefully to be blessed with the beauty of the sparkling crystal snowflakes coating trees and covering the ground in a foamy blanket.
In February, the whole thing starts to sour a bit. The novelty has worn off and the romance is gone. In February, we want our romance to be chocolate, not frozen airborne crystals of precipitation. We pine for spring and curse each new snowfall, but generally resign ourselves to at least a few more weeks of less than pleasant weather before spring arrives. Yet fools like me are apt to rush out after a February snow storm to catch one last set of beautiful scenes, especially if the branches are coated and the day is sunny. Optimism can reign when you think it is the last big storm, and beauty can be found in it.
But snow in March? Especially snow that follows a flood caused by a ground frozen still and deeply by an early end to last autumn and a blizzard dumping massive quantities of the stuff just a few weeks ago? Such a snow that paints the tops of the sandbags and adds frosting-like edging to the swollen creek is cruel. There is nothing pretty or interesting or fun or romantic about such a snow and I do not blame the North Dakota and South Dakota and eastern Minnesota residents that cursed the white stuff these past few days. In March, one can be forgiven for being curmudgeonly about snow. In March, I will not ask anyone to see the bright side or find the silver lining to snow on the sandbags. I will not ask anyone to find the beauty in a March snow that comes during a battle against an oncoming flood.