The days are getting longer and the sun is getting stronger.The seasons of our lives have predicability along with surprise. I love February. I have points of reference for each month and season and feel an internal clock and calendar from the sum of all my experiences. Even though this is the twelth year away from the classroom I feel the tug of March Break. I understand the fatigue and weariness of fighting the good fight from January to March and looking forward to the rest March Break provides. I can only imagine how with all the challenges Covid has brought just how much more intense that exhaustion feels. Now people who don’t quite get it would say that storm days and shortened weeks should be respite enough but teachers know the truth of the demands they face every day and a break is welcome. This year of course is different. Can’t imagine there are many people looking forward to trips south or trips anywhere. We will probably have two of our grandchildren most days and most nights. So my trips into the woods are necessary. I need to stand under the canopy of trees gazing up at the sky to clear my head and tune in to my internal calendar.Each day a checkmark on the days we are given and each one a treasure in itself. Two days ago Megan and the girls made a snowman. The snow was just right the sun and temperature perfect for being outside.Grampie posed with the girls even though he’d had no part in building the snowman. Meg said to get in the picture because he had a part in the girls being in New Brunswick (escaping Alberta). He stood happily between Little Toad and Tiny Toad , a moment frozen in time and recorded in a photograph. The next day the snowman had tumbled, his head and middle ball nearly gone, his carrot nose lying in the snow and his buttons strewn about. His day in the Sun was over. Snowmen don’t last and days can’t be re-lived. Seasons come and go and each day is a gift.