Where is Spring?

My last sight of the outdoors before dark closed in was of snow playing with the wind. So guess what I dreamed of? Snow. In the morning, snow was covering the kitchen countertops, drifting in fluffy patterns over every object left out from the night before. "What is THIS?" I yelled at my husband. "Isn't this what we have a roof for? To keep the SNOW out?" He was dressed in his winter gear - hat, gloves, and all. Smiling from ear to ear (he loves snow!) and shoveling - shoveling! - paths through our house. "Well, sometimes this happens," he explained as if it were the most reasonable occurrence in the world, "It happens when there's too much condensation in the air." You've got to be kidding me! I kept looking up at the roof, as if I expected to find the traitor holes that had let the snow in. "Where am I going to put all this snow?" I started crying. And woke up. Thank God that was just a dream. But obviously there's some processing going on here. WHERE IS SPRING?