It seemed like the snow would never go. Falling down, flying down, piling up, it blanketed ground and iced-up waters. And every time the air warmed up or the sun peeked out and melted a layer of the white stuff, the clouds rolled in, and the snow flurried down.
All of a sudden.
We had a warm spell. And the thick pile of soft snow disappeared. One morning we woke up, and the flattened, frozen grass in dead brown or struggling green had emerged. Only mounds of icy grey-white stuff clung to existence here and there.
The air smelled of Spring though it remained cold and the wind bitter. Humans sniffed it and a spring crept into their steps. One moment we all -- except the skiers and skaters, snowboarders and skidooers -- were complaining about this endless winter, were huddling in our indoor spaces, morose; the next we were flooding coffee shops and sitting on patios, quaffing our drinks and sneezing.
It is fitting that the Supermoon came out on the eve of the equinox. Soaring quickly into the sky, its spotlight intensity drew us out, and we gazed and clicked our cameras as one in the cold night air, feeling awe and hope.
And now it is raining, not snowing, the drops pattering on our roofs, puddling our potholes, and liquifying what is left of the snow. It is officially Spring.