And so it begins…..the countdown to Spring.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days.

Then all will be warm and lovely and there will be peace in the world…

Nice try.

We almost topped zero at sunrise this morning (no, I didn’t see it for myself) and at least two snowstorms are forecast for the next week. This is Iowa. It’s still winter here and will be for longer than I want to admit.

The days will get a bit longer. The clocks will spring forward to Daylight Savings Time. There might even be days where mud threatens to claim real estate from the snow pack, but we’re not done with winter yet. Not by a long shot.

It will be at least another month, maybe two, before the April Showers wash away the last of the winter grunge. Then we will start to see a rainbow of color replace the brown and white landscape.

That’s not to say the bichrome version doesn’t have its own beauty. Driving down a country road in an old dusty pick-up last weekend, the rustic artistry was hard to escape. The sharp contrasts made it seem as if a photo had been overly sharpened in Photoshop. White ridges and deep brown crevasses gave up a posterized effect, with only the blue sky to lend a sense of reality.

We’ve had little snow this winter. Where February is usually a frozen wasteland, this year it’s come in spits. But the cold has settled in the bones.

And so enters March – the longest month of the year on the prairie – filled with warm teaser days strategically placed between blizzards, and seed catalogues in the mail that spark fretful dreams of anticipation.

Oh, if only a single bud would appear on those barren tree branches.

I always want spring to come when the calendar says March. It doesn’t. Not here. It just plays with me. Makes a half-hearted promise or two, then retreats to old habits. Like an undependable lover with waning interest.

I want to breathe new green in my air and feel a tinge of warmth on my face when the sun kisses it. I want the only white on the ground to be my new patent leather Easter shoes.

And so the long, tired days of March begin. Spring is coming – so says the calendar. But none too soon for a winter-weary soul.