Chicago is in the midst of a snowstorm this morning, their largest of the season apparently. Snow in February and March seemed just cruel to me when we lived there. In November, it was novel. In December, it was appropriate. In January, it was expected. But by time Feb. rolled around, my Southern blood would be warming up for Spring and the snow was cruel - it came anyway.
So I'd turn inside, decorating for Valentine's Day took my attention off Mother Nature's stupidity outside my windows. We'd cut out hearts and swathe everything in pink and red. There were cards to designate and sign for each class, card boxes to make and heart cookies to decorate. I'd buy rose scented candles from Yankee Candle - only time of year they aren't too strong. (I have one lit beside me right now.) And I'd pull out my silk wedding bouquet, our wedding champagne glasses and other romantic things to decorate the dining room buffet.
And when it was time for the Valentine's Decorations to go away, green would replace the pink, because March means St. Patrick's Day, which is also our anniversary. So the romantic stuff still worked.
I remember consciously focusing on these holidays so the outside wouldn't eat me alive. Snow and cold and slush and then frozen mud and unfreezing mud and snow and cold and. . .
Sure don't miss the weather, but I do remember with fondness the ways we kept the weather at bay until Spring arrived.
Then, just when I knew this was the year there would be no thaw, green sprouts would announce my daffodils imminent arrival.
Holding on - sometimes that's all we can do. Hold on until the hard time is past.
But holding on with style, now that's worth learning.