Here it is the day of the evening of Passover. For lo the winter's gone, we are told. However, on 42nd Street in Manhattan this morning snow, as confused as we, gently descended. Coats and scarves and hats so recently and so hopefully stowed adorn us.
It's cold. It's wet. And, it's snowing.
Perhaps all of this unseasonable stuff are just reminders that things are not always as simple or as orderly as we might desire.
And so we celebrate!