The calendar says April 7. The ground cover says winter. Wednesday night's snow lies round about, deep and crisp and even. All up and down the road, tree limbs and in some cases whole trees lie lifeless, felled by the sudden, heavy snow. Most are pines, whose needles trapped the snow while it sifted harmlessly through the bare limbs of their deciduous cousins. The first limb on the pine outside my window extends horizontally from the trunk about eight feet from the ground. The snow piled up on its needled branches, forced the limb all the way to the ground and pinned it there, bent like an archer's bow. When the melting snow finally released it, the limb sprang back to the horizontal like a boxer leaping to his feet after the mandatory eight-count. Down, but not out. The resiliency of life.

Snow in the backyard, yes, but the ice is gone from the bay and yesterday I spotted a flock of terns diving enthusiastically for baitfish. With baitfish come bigger fish, so the migrations have begun. Shad are moving up. The stripers and blues will soon follow.

In Augusta, Georgia, the azaleas are in bloom, decorating what may be the most beautiful golf course for its most revered tournament.

Farther north, Sugarloaf reports excellent skiing. Ice still covers the ponds. But the weather can't defy the calendar for long. Life is moving under the snow, under the ice, and will again triumph. Trees will bud and leaf out, the crocuses will bloom, the grass will green, the does will fawn and the moose will calve and the foxes will whelp and the voice of the turtledove will be heard in the land. The ice will melt, the waters will ripple, and the fish will rise. As all things rise in the Spring. Resurrection.

Have a Happy Easter.