Spring arrives just over a week from now, and winter is on its way out, despite evidence to the contrary.
As I write this, a few inches of snow blanket the ground, melting away as the day goes on. The snow was courtesy of a winter storm that moved through the state leaving anywhere between two and six inches of snow, reportedly more in some places.
I enjoy a good snow in winter, even though I wish it had stayed around longer rather than melting away less than 18 hours after it fell. Others might not have been as thrilled with the late season precipitation.
To me this weather development was just a reminder of two things: one being that, up until the last minute, anything is possible; the other being that humankind’s boundaries on nature are malleable. To the latter point, I recall a snow as late as April, well beyond the changeover from winter to spring. There is even a 1989 report of a few snowflakes falling on Derby Day, the first Saturday in May, though I don’t personally remember that occasion. We might consider it spring in April and May, but Mother Nature doesn’t play by our rules. We’re in her house.
As far as the first point, I like to think the late season snow is a reminder about hope. In the context of schedules, it demonstrates that anything is possible up to the end. While many might have gotten used to the 50- and 60-degree weather we had experienced in preceding weeks, they were by no means a determinant of the end of the winter season.
Consequently, realizing that anything is possible up until any given deadline or date not only provides hope but reminds me not to take anything for granted.
I am well-aware how much can be taken for granted, not the least of which is our time here on Earth. Yet I also realize enjoying what time we have often involves enjoying our leisure as much as our active accomplishments.
Since Christmas I have taking up playing guitar after Rebecca bought me the instrument as a gift. For years I had expressed an interest in learning to play saxophone and, in the past year or so, guitar.
While it crossed my mind I was getting a very late start in learning, it was only a fleeting thought. It really did not matter when I started. What mattered was my commitment to learning.
Ultimately, for so much of what we do, we are our own confinements, our own boundaries. And we have the power to demolish those barriers just as we create them.
So much is possible, despite our own self-imposed restrictions and preconceived expectations. We can grow in small and great ways. We can expand our knowledge and develop our humanity. We can learn new things for ourselves and for the benefit of others, ways to give back, ways to spread love, ways to become better humans.