Whoops!

By Patricia Lee Sharpe


It snowed.  Then it snowed again.  Not much.  Less than two inches each night, proving that all snow-covered landscapes are in the running for beautiful.  Unfortunately, my height-challenged crocuses were nearly buried by morning.  This is how they looked in the snow.  Less than perky.

But that’s the way it is with spring, a tease if there ever was one.  One day we shiver.  The next day we prance around with lots of skin in sight.  But the wise hereabouts plant nothing delicate before June 15.  Until then  sudden temperature dips regularly accomplish a genocide of tender new leaves.  An all-too-frequent early April freeze often ruins the fruit crop in Northern New Mexico, which is challenging territory for all farmers.  Too dry.  Too high.  Totally unpredictable.  And yet we have a wonderful farmers’ market.  Brave people those farmers, thank goodness.  They earn and deserve every penny they can squeeze out of us when  the crops come in.  

Not that winter here is any more constant than spring is.  Two years ago a January thaw lasted so long that lilac buds were beginning to look like minute grape clusters.  Elsewhere serious green leaves  appeared.  Then winter roared returned with sub zero temperatures. No fragrant lilacs that year.  They’d jumped the gun.

Now it’s warming up again. The fat buds on the aspen are giving way to fuzzy little catkins.  Iris spears are knifing out of the ground.

But wait.  More snow’s due in a few days.  More beautiful snow clad mornings!  The best thing about snow at this time of year is that the steep hill in front of my house doesn't stay icy for days on end.  Five or ten days a year I need a vehicle with all-wheel drive, and I need it badly.  The rest of the year my little car purrs up and down this hill perfectly happily.  That’s when I remember the advantages of being marooned in mid winter. Errands can be postponed, and I’ve an excuse to bow out of engagements I didn't want to commit to in the first place.

When people ask me which season I like best, I stumble for a reply.  I can’t say which color I prefer or which country I remember most fondly either. There’s always something to like, something to enjoy, some beauty to savor. 

And some annoyance.