April is upon us, but most of New Hampshire is still digging out from a record breaking snowfall.
With more snow on the way, Sherwin Sleeves took a moment to reflect on the ongoing winter and to report some hopeful news about the coming spring.
Sherwin Sleeves is a character created by Sean Hurley, a writer from Thornton, New Hampshire.
It is usually not frightening to break records. It’s typically rather satisfying and fun, often a cause for joy. But it will be a little unsettling to say, as we may soon be able to, that this has been the worst winter since 1873. Which actually, if you want peer deeper into the cupboard, means the worst winter in recorded history.
As for myself, I have never been terribly interested in time or weather. I am not indifferent to the rain or the snow. It is more that I do not follow the weather, like some follow baseball or soap operas. But this wild, unfinishing, triple-dog-dare of a winter has finally brought to me to my feet. And I am here with the rest of you, tugging at every news source for some announcement that it will soon end. That no other storms will come; that spring is standing in the wings, about to make its green and sparkling entrance.
So when will it end? When will there cease to be yet another storm?
It’s hard to come up with a suitable analogy, a good way to describe this monster’s ball of a winter. There was no tidal wave moment - no sudden knock-out 40 feet of snow. Instead the entire winter was its own long, relentless finale. The knock-out punch started in late November and only now does the glove seem to be falling from our cheek.
I went out walking in the woods today, along the snow-cobbled snowmobile tracks. The chickadees were singing, the crows were calling. By chance my eye was caught by a distant pool of golden sun.
I bushwacked through the forest until I came to an open ridge and a bed of fully exposed earth. I touched my boot uncertainly to the ground like Neil Armstrong setting foot on the moon. And without another thought I sat down in the treasure chest of brown leaves, tired gray moss and rusty pine needles. I removed my gloves and pressed my hands at the warm, dry earth, like a doctor checking a patient. There was a sensation of health, of heartbeat vitality. This is where we belong, I thought. Close to the roots and soil. And I was smiling with closed eyes when I felt the soft tingling at my face. I looked into the sky. The sun was gone beneath a dark cotton and the snow, once again, had begun to fall. No matter, I thought, pulling my gloves on. What I really want to report is that I have seen the earth. It is doing well. It is beautiful. Alive. It is still there. Waiting for us.
I don't care if Sherwin Sleeves is real or fictional, this piece hit me so hard it brought a hopeful sob to my throat. We're all feeling this! The other day my kindergarten-aged son yelled, "LOOK!!! SIDEWALK!!" as we drove through town. His need to go out and play ball has meant standing in the street with my husband, in winter hats, gloves, coats, boots, tossing a ball back and forth. Thank you so much for remind us all that yes, it will end...