Easter- With every season comes change and the promise of spring is coming.

I welcome the brown, matted grass that is emerging around the edges of my sidewalk as the snow slowly shrinks under a drizzle of rain.
Today, I waited for a front loader and a dump truck to pass before I jaywalked across the now dry pavement, and then I watched as the duo performed their do-see-do.
Dipping into a roof-high snow bank the giant shovel backed and turned and dipped again as the load was released into the truck that would haul away the winter of 2009.
Daylight saving time began and St. Patrick's day leans into the Easter season and yet, I have not seen a red-breasted robin and if my crocuses have pushed through the frozen tundra they were stopped dead in their ascent by the iced snow that hovers nears the house.
I'm at a loss with what to do with the extra hour of daylight because, although at times the evening light now flutters through sporadic cloud cover and illuminates our dinner hour, we are housebound by mud and it really is too early to begin our spring supplications.
Don't get me wrong. This has not been my winter of discontent. Quite the contrary, I have savored the evening cups of coffee, with just a bit of creamer please, while I harvested political tidbits from Katy and Brian on the evening news.
Long snowy weekends conspired with my wanton desire to snuggle under a quilt near the Blaze King and read a book cover to cover.
Other days my decadence involved so many hours hunched over a jigsaw puzzle I had to get into bed with Mr. Ben Gay.
I am embarrassed to say how many pairs of pajamas I own, but in the depth of winter, when visitors and family aren't likely to pop in unannounced, I stay in my flannel-elastic-waisted favorites all day.
But alas, days of simmering chili or stew, and hot chocolate evenings are coming to a close. I embraced winter because I believed in the promise of spring.
My personal leap of faith spans snowdrifts and dormant flower beds and although this year Easter will come before daffodils and tulips, I know they too will rise again.