As I'm writing this, I'm looking out the window at a cold white sky above fragile tree branches, soft with baby-green leaves, bending low to the ground under the weight of the heavy blanket of snow which continues to float from the clouds - and I'm wondering, exactly where did spring go? The electricity went out at 3:30 this morning - a tree that fell on the lines, they say - and it only came on briefly about an hour ago, but long enough to make a pot of coffee. Fingers crossed that my laptop battery will hold out until it comes back on again!
I'm feeling a little nostalgic, I guess, as I watch the winter scene unfold (in April!) and here's why. I always wanted a spring baby. There's something so special about being born during the season of renewal and rebirth. When I became pregnant with Eva I was elated and began thinking of Spring-inspired names and perusing the pages of the Pottery Barn Kids catalogue in search of the perfect "gardenesque" nursery set, and when we found out she was due on Easter Sunday my mind happily wandered to lilac Easter sundresses and sunny straw hats. She ended up coming a few days before Easter and I remember that first Easter Sunday was very much like today - snowy, wet, cloudy and cold. So much for the dreams of dresses and sun hats, but I had something better to occupy my thoughts.