Spring officially starts tomorrow. Today, when I woke up to snow plows scraping outside my window, I smiled and scoffed, "Oh, New England, you own our asses, don't you?" The previous week (St. Mark's Spring Break) had brought warmer temperatures and most of our snow had melted. But, alas, on this last day of winter, we got one more (hopefully one more) decent storm to send us on our way into Spring. I got up. I showered. I gave into the idea of a sweatpants day and came downstairs to start my morning. I put a kettle on and opened my curtains. Six to eight inches is plenty to fully blanket our tiny yard and pull sleepy teachers from their homes to sweep and scrape their cars and porches to get to school on time. Again I smiled and shook my head in disbelief at just how much snow I was looking at.
While there was a part of me that was greatly disappointed to see all that white stuff and while I long for sunny days, windows open all afternoon, and leaves on the trees again, there is a beauty in winter that I can't shake. As I sipped my tea and looked out my window, I was compelled to be still and accept the disappointment of more snow. In doing so I found, and have found all winter long, a great beauty and humility in being surrounded by this blanket of white. It is cold, yet fluffy and inviting. Full of death and slumber with life teeming underneath. The branches of the trees are bare and creak when they bend, but are full of life waiting to prove itself again.
I know Spring is coming. The promise of Spring following winter has never been broken. I can hope and wait expectantly for my sunny days and open windows listening to the leaves rustle in the trees. In the meantime I will be still and, in turn, find beauty in the things God is teaching me in this season. Lessons I may not fully realize until the Spring
Here are some of my favorite snapshots of our first winter here in Southborough. All images were taken with my phone on or around St. Mark's campus.