It also means unpredictable weather. It also means that my friends from other states where it is mostly warm (you know who you are, Texans) will moan and look at me dejectedly like a dog that's had its hindquarters swatted. "It is April," they say. "Why is it still snowing?"
I have no choice but to tell them God hates us.
But finally some good news. This is living in Michigan. The blossoms on the tree outside my window are opening pink and violet. The gardens in Kalamazoo are unfurling. It is almost May and it is almost warm.
I am almost smiling, but I know to wait, to repress it slightly, to not be fooled until I can be sure that it is time to leave the windows open and lay out yesterday's clothes for airing in a steady sun.