We wait, don’t many of us, for the gloom of winter to give way to the beauty of spring. We hope for balmier weather, and the colors that sprout from the ground, some for one season, some renewing themselves season after season. We eagerly shed our own carapaces of winter coats, hats, mittens, and the like. We turn our faces toward the sun, and drink in its brighter doses of vitamin D. But seasons blur, don’t they? Sometimes, they even bleed, one into another, or one after another.  That’s the confounding thing about living through enough of them. Expectations are rewarded, and dashed, and rewarded, and dashed, again and again.

Where we expect the renewal of sun, and the erasure of gray, we don’t always find nature’s rainbow. Sometimes, the glimpses we get of a brighter season are undone by an........

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