At 4am, the wind woke me up, and I took it as a sign that the 24 hours of gentle and not-bone-chilling breezes were gone. We’d wake up to freezing temperatures, if not downright snow. It often snows in Indiana in March, so it’s silly to bellyache about it. It comes. It goes. It’s pretty grey, but it’s usually the finish line.

I know we’re all thinking it this year: IS it the finish line? Are we getting close? Snowsuits are still hanging in lockers, and school delays happened as late as last week. Access roads to my house are both frozen and flooded, at the same time.

As I balanced the girls snow gear over the heating vents (for the one billionth time this year), I couldn’t help but hear a scary voice inside my head ask, “What if we’re now in some permanent state of Alaskan weather? What if the cold never leaves and the snow is here to stay? What if 50+ inches of snow wasn’t all Mother Nature has in store for us?

This was winter’s last weekend in the Hoosier state, technically speaking. The Spring Equinox arrives this week. The girls played outside in everything from tshirts to winter coats, and they spent most of the weekend covered in frozen mud. I wasn’t sure if I should make a pie or a cake to celebrate the end of winter, so I made both. Then I made fried pickles, because I find they go with everything. Kidding, they don’t go with anything, but I’ve been feeling like a rebel lately.

A big, cold, muddy, frozen rebel. But we’re still here Indiana. Battered and driving the world’s filthiest cars…but we’re still here. I know our collective wishes haven’t made the snow melt, and buying snow blowers didn’t tempt the Fates to send sun…so maybe, just maybe…we’re due for some good luck. Godspeed my friends. Godspeed.