A reason to pause and understand as winter ever so gradually becomes spring

Like much of north and central Wisconsin, our speck of Earth was covered in snow this morning.

Not just a little snow. By the time it's done, 6-8 inches of it.

The day's first two thoughts:

• Good luck finding those Easter eggs in the yard, kids. Check back with us next Thursday, if you haven't moved on by then.
• All you yahoos who crab about weather forecasters when things don't turn out exactly as they thought they would should probably give forecasters credit when things go exactly as they thought. And that's probably more frequent than you think.

For the last day of March, a half-foot of "white flakes of death" might seem like a lot. It's not. You could look it up to make sure of my claim, but that's your call.

A few hours before the plow came by to clean up.

Let's just agree that I've spent 61 winters here, and as the Farmers Insurance ad states, I know a thing or two because I've seen a thing or two.

Among those things, and among the things I love most about this part of the globe, is the gradual, not-at-all-sudden, it'll-be-done-when-it's-done change of seasons.

It's a sometimes annoyingly slow morph from one to the next. No wall switch is flipped to end one and start another, and the date that a season allegedly starts is usually so vague that it's meaningless.

It just happens when it happens, and your job is to watch and cope.

That pace doesn't necessarily make for an easy life. Your circumstance, your age, your surroundings dictate what you must do to accommodate nature's transitions, and sometimes that means shoveling or changing plans or wearing a heavier coat or just slowing your roll.

Our friend PeeWee's pontoon will have to wait a little
longer to get out and play.

So what.

In this weekend's case, our soil needs moisture. We'd gone more than two weeks without precipitation, and this temporary weekend diversion will make green grass and green trees, and that seems like a good bargain.

Soon enough, we'll be sliding boats back into their rightful home in water, restocking fishing gear, packing away (or donating) the winter clothes and unpacking the stored tank tops and aqua socks.

Around that time, we'll be at the fire pit, watching the moon and stars, roasting marshmallows and laughing.

But, where we live, that can't happen until things like this weekend happen.

It's become a bit of a trite phrase, but at times like this, it actually means something: Enjoy the day.

Branches weighted down with soggy snow.

Take it for what it is.

Know that you're powerless to change it, and understand that it's part of a much, much larger and more intricate process that will benefit you in the short and long terms.

As I close this piece, the snow has stopped. The driveway is covered, and the limbs on trees in our yard, across the road and everywhere within eyesight are outlined with the relatively brief snowfall.

It's pretty, and a pretty good time to be calm and reflect.

This is where we are, and what we need to do.

Enjoy the day.

Happy Easter.