Today is my mother’s birthday, and we’re having our first real snowfall in two years. Since she never goes outside anymore, she doesn’t really care. I, however, think it’s a fine, fine birthday present, and I hereby accept it on her behalf.

My birthday is more than a month away. In mid-March, we rarely get the gift of snow. More often, it’s a sloppy mix of sleet and freezing rain, with maybe a touch of snow designed to taunt me. In 2007, the infamous wintry mix included enough snow to plow before it turned to all rain. For reasons unknown, the snowplow that barreled over the hill knocked over my mailbox, post and all. To complicate matters, as I tried to back out of my garage to go to the post office, my left front tire got stuck in a rut in the driveway. Because of the slick surface, it took nearly an hour to free my car. When I made my way to the post office to pick up my mail, I was informed that it was on the truck which, of course, would not be able to deliver it since there was now no box. Try back on Monday, they said. Sigh.