It’s been quite the gloomy January. Hardly any sunshine. Rain, wind, warmish temperatures. Damp. In-between weather. Not really winter, not yet spring. And it’s only mid-January.

Nothing like the January’s of my childhood. Oh, boy, here she goes again, you might think. But seriously, I miss those cold days. Snow days. Ice-on-the-pond days. Bundling up from head-to-toe-so-you-could-spend-hours-outside days. Shoveling out our neighbors, building snowmen, creating snow forts, engaging in snowball fights, flying down the hills on a saucer or a sled. Lying down in the snow to make snow angels. The scent of the cold air stinging your nostrils. The sensation of cheeks blushing to a deep red the longer you stayed outside. Ahhh…made you feel you were alive.

This weekend, we finally got some snow. Nothing to write home about, but still. I could spend hours watching the snow sift through the air, twirling in the wind. Big fat flakes like eiderdown, falling all around the birds at the feeder. Birds on the ground scratching to get to the seed I left there for them before it got covered by a coating of the white stuff. Slate-gray Juncos, chick-a-dees, dashing red cardinals, goldfinches with their drab winter feathers protecting them from hungry predators.

And so, I watched. The wind grabbing the flakes, keeping them swirling in a mad dance, before calming down for a moment to catch its breath, only to begin the dance again. As the snow covered the white pines, it became a winter wonderland for a brief time.

It snowed pretty much all day, but never seemed to accumulate more than a sugar coating on the grass and the trees. I’m a little disappointed. As I’ve gotten older, my heart still longs for a real snowstorm. I love to walk out in the snow. The pristine, quietude pulls me into a space of peace and beauty. I still find the stark contrast of the snow against the green pine needles and dark brown bark on the trees to be magical.

And, yet, as I’ve gotten older, I no long wish it to snow from November to March. One or two good snowstorms satisfies the longing of the little girl in me. I need the reminder of the winter to prepare me for the spring. For, just as you need the darkness to appreciate the light, coming out of the winter into the spring can be best appreciated if there is a winter to leave behind.