This past weekend was Candlemas, the halfway point between winter and spring. It symbolizes the coming of the light, and with it, a welcoming warmth we could all use right now.

This past week we cast off the seemingly impermeable blanket of snow that had layered the Earth for months. Birds sang their encouraging song and for a moment I thought perhaps this winter was over.

Today, as I peer outside to the whiteout that is my yard, I am less than convinced that it is true.

There comes a point every year around early February that I start to look at my winter coat with disgust.

“I am so sick of you,” I whisper with vitriol. It’s not really the coat’s fault. After all, it’s job is to protect me from the cold. And it performs its duty quite well. But as the snow tumbles from the sky (again), I can’t help but feel a little put upon.

The worst part is gazing at all the lovely shoes in my closet that I can’t wear because if I did, I’d land straight on my tush the moment I stepped out the door.

Being halfway between here (winter) and there (spring) is hard for someone like me who is not very patient. At the same time, it is a great lesson in Slow, to accept that which simply is and to know that all things come in good time.

But I don’t have to like it. Do I?