Fist-sized gossamer flakes falling from the sky on December 1.  

Picturesque.  

Same fantastical flakes blanketing your Easter basket on March 23. 

Grotesque.

A simple matter of perspective? 

I’m inclined not be too hasty with the “yeah, you betcha.” 

Sure, the equation for setting expectations starts out simple enough for us Minnesotans since we’ve only got two seasons:  ‘definitely could snow’ and ‘probably won’t snow’.

But this is immediately complicated when you realize that separating the season of ‘definitely could snow’ from the season of ‘probably won’t snow’ is a very blurry blustery line known as —

a blizzard.

And actually, there are two blizzards significant to the equation we might use to more accurately align expectations and be happier campers when it flippin flakes on our Easter Parades. 

You’ve got the ‘first’ blizzard — which could take place anytime in October but then again might not even hit in time to give you a white Christmas. 

And you’ve got the ‘last’ blizzard — which has been known to bury the May pole.

So you’ve got a mercurial white out where one might wish to find clear delineation — and we’ve yet to even factor in the more influential variables.  Things like human levels of immunity to cabin fever — or whether your glass leans full or empty.

I mean, hypothetically speaking, what if — after three or four days that hit 50 — I have my heart set on a warm and breezy walk to mass in my new spring trench?  And instead, I’m snapping the furry hood on a down jacket the sight of which I can no longer stand?

Am I smilin?  Am I singin?

— Suddenly sheepish after writing this, I can’t help feeling a sinking similarity between myself and my 6-year-old nephew who hesitated to get out of the car when I dropped him off at a friend’s birthday party because —

“What if I don’t like the cake?”

Yes, it’s complicated, unpredictable and probably not what we’re really in the mood for maybe 90 percent of the time. 

But, the beauty of life is simply this:

You can always find a way to enjoy the party — whether you like the cake or not.

My art flows from the patterns & paths of my lived experience which ⏤ like yours ⏤ are at once deeply personal and entirely universal.

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