Winter returns

 Well, winter returned last week with a vengeance. Several  - 6 to 8? - inches of snow fell on Monday, and we had to pull the shovels out again. I don't mind shoveling, although I want to upgrade my shovel. I'm now interested in ergonomic designs and wide blades, preferably with a cutting edge...  

However, on Friday the temperatures creeped up to nearly 50, so today most of the snow has melted. It looks like the flowering bulbs are undeterred by being buried again for a week or so. 

The overcast skies and bleak weather fit my mood. I recently learned about a disappointment that hit harder than expected.  And now I'm again at a crossroads and feeling mournful rather than hopeful. I know the source of my pain is pride, and I suppose I should be grateful for yet another opportunity to grow in humility, especially during Lent. I remind myself that I am grateful for the flexibility to visit with aging parents and a young granddaughter. But I am struggling against a combination of self-doubt and ambition.  I wonder if I could make one more attempt to continue my education in order to advance and improve as a teacher. Indecision in my past may be too late to rectify.  I am probably too old, although if someone asked me for similar advice, I likely would encourage a return to the classroom.  Every so often I look at application materials and am deterred by the request for references who can attest to my writing ability  - most of my professors are long retired, if not expired - and by a fear of rejection - what ability?  I accuse myself of failing to make better decisions and better use of time in the past.   

Sometimes I lose patience with myself. Vanity and pride are difficult to shake, and when they both are wounded, it feels a little ridiculous at my age.  And yet, I want to argue, isn't the desire to have meaningful, fulfilling work a part of human nature? Although my job teaching middle school was exhausting, it provided a deep sense of purpose and direction, something I lack when I have too much time on my hands. And this week I also failed at making soup and bread - twice burning both- and I have failed to finish  a project I started 6 weeks ago, so my domestic skills are unsatisfying, to say the least. 

I feel a bit buried right now, and while I want to be uplifted by the signs of spring emerging through the melting snow, I'm a little resentful of facile spring metaphors and of the sunshine.  Let it snow.