“And there’s snow” is probably an odd way to begin something about March in western Massachusetts, but coming at the end of a mild winter where marathon shoveling sessions have been few and far between, this week’s storm was a doozy. At the end of it all, I measured two feet of the white stuff in my back yard. And even though the heavy, wet snow was annoying, with the help of my neighbors, I fared well in comparison to many others throughout the region.

As the storm hit, the usual snow emergencies were declared. First, schools closed, then businesses closed, and residents were asked to remain in their homes and off the roads unless they absolutely had to get somewhere. The plow drivers, as usual, did an awesome job keeping roads as passable as possible while the white stuff poured out of the sky in a steady stream.

Branches and trees came down across roads. Electric, telephone, and cable wires were downed not only by falling branches but by the weight of the snow itself, leaving many without power. Residents without alternate heat sources sought shelter in a local warming center to escape dropping temperatures or dangerous conditions in their homes from the lack of power. Over the following days, utility workers came to the rescue, spending long hours repairing wires and restoring power.

Slowly, life got back to normal – except for the snow that still blanketed pretty much everything outside of roads, driveways, sidewalks, and residential walkways. Once the sun came out, trees and shrubs shook off the snow clinging to their branches, but for many shrubs and bushes, their branches remained buried beneath mounds of snow.

If I’ve learned anything in my years of gardening, it’s that plants want to live. Those in conditions that favor them do well in good times and have the strength to recover from damage inflicted on them in bad times. For now, patience is needed, like the garden waiting for spring.

Three times during the storm, I waded through the accumulated snow, which in the end was thigh high in some places, to shake the heavy burden off the branches of my witch hazel tree. Each time, they sprang lazily back upright from ground level. Each time I gave a sigh of relief that the pride of my garden hadn’t been shattered by the storm. The row of half-century old lilacs nearby wasn’t so lucky. The entire row of bushes reaching over 10 feet in height couldn’t be seen. Blueberry, haskap berry, and azalea bushes in the garden were smothered, as was a very enthusiastic reblooming lilac beside the driveway. Days later, the fate of most remains uncertain. Still, spring is nearly here and that means possibilities.