Of course, it snowed. The first full day of spring, the day after exalting Persephone’s return, the celebrated daffodils, of course, it snowed. A sheen of white fell during the night—pushed from the northwest wind that still blows this morning.
I thought yesterday that this spring was transitioning way too easily. Usually, it has been my experience, that spring arrives here in fits and starts. It teases us along the way with warmer promises and cooler realities and at least once since I’ve lived here a full-blown blizzard.
But spring snows are fleeting, temporary. Unlike their November counterparts, they are not intended to be the base of something enduring. Spring snows reveal Creation’s indecisiveness.
Or, it is not indecision at all. Creation—and maybe our Creator—desires balance. The difference between a spring snow and a spring rain, at least theoretically, is one degree Fahrenheit. I know the difference is more complicated—ground temperature, air temperature, barometric pressure, were the airborne particles Canadian or Pacific? At the melting point the solid and liquid phase exist in equilibrium. For a moment, for an instant, for a temporary and fleeting pause, liquid and solid dance as co-inhabiters of the same space. It is Creation’s way to seek that out in all things.
In these days, we seek and crave equilibrium. We desire a balance between anxiety and hope, between panic and faith, between discouragement and courageousness. For a moment, for an instant, for a temporary and fleeting pause, they are tenuously balanced within us. Our job is not to push one toward the other or to resist the transitions, but to allow them to be…for it is temporary.
If we really want to consider the fluid (pun intended) nature of it all, the snow has already melted to slush and dissolved into water and has resolved itself to evaporate to continue its quest for balance and equilibrium.