Ah February, the shortest month, and here in New England a month that often overstays its welcome.  The “Great Snow of 1717,” for example, blanketed New England in a series of four storms leaving nearly four feet on the ground and drifts up to twenty-five feet high.  The Blizzard of 1978, which struck on February 5, virtually paralyzed the entire Northeast, assaulting coastal and southern New England with sustained hurricane force winds and record amounts of snowfall that continued for more than thirty hours in some locations.  More recently, the February 2007 Valentine’s Day Storm, which started on February 12 and peaked on Valentine’s Day, deposited over two feet of the fluffy white stuff on the inland portions of New England en route from the Midwest to eastern Canada.

But it’s not just the snow, which, after all, has some redeeming features, especially if you’re a skier.  It’s not even the cold.  Despite the old saying, “As the days grow longer, the cold grows stronger,” February is seldom if ever the coldest month of the year here in New England.  That honor goes to January, a longer and typically even less user-friendly month than February.  To be sure, early February is essentially an extension of January, but by the end of the month, things have changed.  During February, the number of daylight hours in Boston, for example, increases from just under ten hours on February 1 to over eleven by the 28th.  And with the steadily lengthening days comes a gradual, if barely perceptible, increase in daily temperatures and warming of the atmosphere that sets the stage for the more rapid transformation that follows in March.

And that’s the thing about February.  It’s a time of change, but the change is hard to notice.  The days are rapidly lengthening, but the thermometer seems hardly to budge.  On or about February 2, winter is half over, as is the heating season.  By the end of February, spring is a mere three weeks away.  Still, appearances matter, and throughout February winter seems to retain its grip.  The white frosted browns and grays and the barren limbs of the winter forest continue to greet our weary gaze.  The birds of winter, chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, and white-throated sparrows, still congregate at our feeders.  The icy layer of now faded granules that stubbornly blankets the earth seems to have become a permanent feature of the landscape.

And yet, even as nothing seems to be changing, the winter sun’s pale light is slowly giving way to the richer, brighter, more golden hues of early spring.  By the end of February, buds have quietly appeared on the branches of most trees and shrubs, and scattered across the landscape, the first crocuses and snowdrops have unfurled their welcome bursts of color.  The thermometer may still say winter, but change is in the air.  February’s virtues may be a bit weak on discoverability, and their ease of access score is nothing to write home about either, but they’re real enough, if only we take the time to notice.

February, maybe it’s not such a bad month after all.