“‘Snow in April is abominable,’ said Anne. ‘Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.’” — L.M. Montgomery

Despising winter—yet stubbornly refusing to leave New England in quest of a different climate—I look forward to the coming of Spring. We now are a mere eighteen days from the Spring Equinox—from the Latin “equal night”—when the sun crosses over the equator (or more accurately when the earth’s axis tilts the northern hemisphere more towards the sun) and the days continue to lengthen and grow milder.

This time of the year is the most trying. It is the teasing season where one day we are immersed in a blizzard followed by freezing rain, then bitter cold, locking the slippery snowy mess in place. Then a forty-five-degree day full of sun that feels almost like summer.

But we cannot rely on the warmth to last. Winter never goes quietly around here. It strikes out like a wounded animal, snarling and slashing at us a few more times before dying.

A glance at the forecast for the next few days shows temperatures ranging from 60 degrees to 15 degrees. The teasing warmth soon shattered by bitter cold.

And while I try to always live in the moment, since the future is so uncertain, there is the promise of steadily warming days ahead. Soon, those strange people who enjoy the cold will complain about the humidity and heat. While I for one, sans the air conditioning I also despise, will bake gleefully.

Spring is almost upon us with its promise of renewal. Nests will hold eggs, the first green stalks will find their way out of seed and rise above the soil, and the sun will rise higher in the sky and stay there a bit longer each day, to warm the moments of our lives.

But for now, I will keep a wary eye out for those last blasts of frigid weather trying to spoil the moments of warmth.

It is almost time to listen to the warmth with all our senses.