Is Spring coming? It's hard to see it through the frosted windows of my car that I must scrape each morning before being able to drive about my tasks. I can't discern it in the still-icy lakes and rivers I wander along in my free time. I don't find it in the mix of mud and frost flowers that cover the ground leaving no space for new blooms or green growth. I can't feel it beneath the sting of bitter wind that slips through the scarf wound around my neck or creeps up the sleeves of my coat to strike any bare inch of skin between mitten and sweater. I don't think Spring is coming at all.