If it snows the first day of spring, you're in Arkansas

Ah, springtime in the Ozarks. When jonquils open their golden blooms ... and Mother Nature dusts them with snow.

It’s hard to imagine a week ago the sun was bright and the temperature pushed 80. Folks bared pale legs in shorts and sported sun-reddened arms where once there were sleeves. Motorcycles roared along the highways through the hills as bikers shook off winter’s cobwebs. Gardeners took tentative steps to prepare the still-cool soil — where you can find it in the rocky Ozarks — for the first seeds of the season. Thoughts of camping scampered through people’s heads.

Then came the first day of spring — and the first snow of any significance in the reputedly finished winter. Out came the heavy coats and Uggs, longjohns and gloves, wool caps and scarves ... again.

In Arkansas and the Ozarks, you can be certain of the weather’s uncertainty. We can go from warm and sunny to dreary and snow quicker than a Kardashian marriage. You can leave the house wearing flip-flops in the morning and need snow shoes by evening. We let Lola the Wonder Dachshund out to do her business on our greening lawn Thursday morning, and when we let her out Thursday evening, she looked at us with an expression that said, “OK, what did you with the yard?”

You know you’re in Arkansas when you optimistically set out tomato plants only see them covered in snow.

You know you’re in Arkansas when you go through heat, rain, wind, snow, fog, sleet, sunshine and clouds — before noon.

You know you’re in Arkansas when the TV weatherman shrugs and says, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

You know you’re in Arkansas when you can’t go mudding because the ground is too wet.

You know you’re in Arkansas when the forecast calls for an 80 percent chance of precipitation and nothing happens, or when there’s a 20 percent chance of precipitation and you have to start loading animals two by two into an ark.

You know you’re in Arkansas when a heavy dew in August counts as measurable precipitation.

You know you’re in Arkansas when folks gripe about the heat in summer, but wax poetic about wanting its return in winter.

You know you’re in Arkansas when the seasons are rain, drought, tornado and freezing.

I guess you could say we have unusual weather in Arkansas. Now, I’ll admit we had a fairly decent winter this time. There was a little snow that came and went quickly, some chilly temperatures, nothing too bad. Good hot chocolate weather.

Last weekend, or at least last Saturday, was perfect, a great precursor of spring. It gave us a taste of what we could look forward to when spring arrived this week. Instead, it turned out to be a tease as winter laughed at us and hit us up side the head with a snowball.

Now, I will admit I wasn’t completely surprised to see this happen, although what some would dub a major snowfall wasn’t what I expected. There’s always an Easter cold snap every year, whenever Easter falls on the calendar. It can be a little colder when Easter happens in March than when it’s in April. I suppose it’s just a semi-traditional last gasp of winter before we commence the frolics of spring.

Even though we were caught somewhat unaware by this week’s snow, and there’s still more moving through the country’s midsection toward the east this weekend, I think some people’s reactions to the prognosticating Puxatawney Phil and his prediction of the end of winter have been a bit extreme. Folks have put out wanted posters accusing him of fraud, others have recommended taking vengeance on the critter and even wreaking physical harm upon him. I saw where someone even wanted to cook him.

Really, folks shouldn’t get upset with Puxatawney Phil. After all, he’s a rodent, not a meteorologist.

Maybe we in Arkansas need our own weather-forecasting critter. Perhaps a possum, or maybe an armadillo, something to which we could give a cute name and force to tell us when winter will end. Or maybe just a weather rock, the simplest, most direct method of determining the weather: If it’s wet, it’s raining; if it’s dry, it’s clear; if it’s white, it’s snowing; if it’s gone, there’s a tornado.

Well, like a smart man once said, we can talk about the weather, but we can’t do anything about it. So, I think I’ll have another cup of coffee, open the curtains and watch the snow melt. Happy spring, y’all.