All last week I was hoping the wind would turn south, because that’s all it needs in April to make Spring happen. But it was clear that the weekend in the woods would be an exercise in acceptance. We don’t tell the weather what to do.

Rowe Camp is in the Berkshires, on the Mohawk Trail, site of a summer camp since 1924. There’s a spirit to the place that unfolds as soon as you get off the main road and onto the two-lane through pine-covered hills. There was a foot of snow on the ground, untouched and untracked. The sky was pure grey.

Saturday was a recap of all the possible varieties of snow, including a snow shower with flakes thicker and bigger than any I’d ever seen before. Sunday was bright, sunny, with a sharp wind that blew my car around all the way back on I-91. It was in the low 40’s.

I had many improving conversations and have much to think about and learned some camp songs.

“We give thanks, for untold blessings already on their way.”

That’s my good word to take to work this morning.