A Polish Spring

Yesterday was the first day of spring . . .
It snowed.
Not a big snow -that's something that Montreal would do.
In Montreal there would be a blizzard on the first day of Spring, then another one in May.
Instead I awoke to find a few sickly flakes falling to the earth -blowing about on the ground like bits of sand that come out of one's shoes after spending the day in the beach.
Typically Polish . . . or at least the Poland that I must live with.
Something -yet nothing; as if the winter in Poland knew that it was the first day of spring, and therefore wanted to make a statement . . . but then gave up somewhere between the thought and the action.

Well -L'chaim.
Here's to better days . . .
The apathy of the first day of Polish Spring -of the 'ones who are' i.e. 'the powers that be' will not get to me . . .
Pesach is coming -a chance to leap out of the self serving confines of this place and bring in a fresh life.
Soon the snow will be gone. The question, then, is only how?
Will it be smashed by Polish workers with pick axes and then melt in a dreary drizzle?
or will the Sun come out, and all will be bright?