Could that be spring in the air?

March, having "roared in like a lion," is today showing a bit more restraint. Walking outside in the early sunlight, I could feel the hint of spring beneath the blue sky. Although the thermometer was stuck in the 30s, the air felt far warmer than it had in the past couple of days, when a shrill wind had me clutching my heavy coat tightly around me. This winter, which has seen more snow than eastern North Carolina had experienced in several years, seemed determined to hang on.

March snows can be the fiercest and heaviest of the year. Our first March in Wilson, in 1980, gave me the deepest snowfall I had ever known — about 18 inches. The snow was deeper than my toddler son was tall — well, almost, since he couldn't stand on his own; it was deeper than his seated height. The News & Observer reminded me this morning of an earlier March, one I remember well, though I often forget the year. It was 1960. The snow began on my 11th birthday (March 2) and continued overnight. (The N&O reports the snow as a March 3 event, but it began the day before where I was living, south and west of Raleigh.) For my birthday, I had been granted the privilege of inviting a couple of friends over for the afternoon. Oblivious to the hazards of slippery roads and such, my friends piled onto the school bus with me, and we rode to my house as the snow got deeper and deeper. When the bus arrived at our driveway, a parent's car was waiting to take my friends safely home. I was disappointed not to have friends over to explore the snow.

A week later, it snowed again. A week after that, it snowed again. For three consecutive Wednesdays, we had a crippling snow. As soon as the roads cleared, it would snow again. School was closed for a good portion of March. Sleet fell after at least one of the snows, making a platform strong enough for a child to walk on top of the snow. It remained cold enough that icy patches remained on the school grounds for weeks, giving my friends and I chances to "skate" in our shoes at recess.

But March 2010 looks to be not so cold and snow-ful as March 1960. Fifty years ago, I was excited by the snow and happy to be out of school. Today, I'm ready for spring, eager to see the daffodils and azaleas bloom, yearning to feel the sun's warmth in the cool air. I would contend that it's not because I'm growing old but because my tastes are more mature and refined. But you might disagree.