If April is the cruelest month (T.S. Eliot), February must be the most disconcerting. After an inordinately gray January, punctuated by only one noticeable snow, and just one brief stretch of single-digit temperatures overnight, we were left wondering if winter got lost on its way to us. As February arrived, still gray, there was no way the groundhog would see his shadow.

Sure enough, Groundhog Day hinted at an early spring. Then suddenly we were treated to a stretch of sunny days — what a shock! Blue sky prevailed; the beautiful silhouette of bare branches against that pure color lifted spirits and stirred thoughts of spring more surely than any groundhog. But we should know better. New England’s weather has long been notorious for its inconsistency and with global warming accelerating, any familiar patterns are subject to disruption.

Still, we are tugged toward hope, even with the disconcerting awareness that all is uncertain.

This has also been a period of disconcerting reading. Having broken a foot with an ill-placed step New Year’s eve day, I have read more than usual. First was Heather Cox Richardson’s latest, “Democracy Awakening.” She is an expert on American history, especially the Civil War and Reconstruction.

Her daily letters, which have more subscribers (over 1 million) than any other Substack column, provide perspective that has been grounding, if worrying, by placing current events in historical context. Her book is profoundly disturbing as it lays out how our nation’s deepest roots are entangled in a long-running struggle between economic classes and the power embedded in exploitation of slaves and women.

Richardson derives a measure of hope from her knowledge, because she has studied the repeated patterns of pressure and stress on our democracy and so far it has held.

Next was “I Want a Better Catastrophe” by Andrew Boyd. In a shockingly blunt disquisition on the state of our climate crisis, Boyd says the part no one wants to say out loud: We are in such deep trouble. The carbon already released into the atmosphere guarantees threatening climate conditions for the foreseeable future.

Still, he argues that it is worth working hard to hold any additional warming back and preparing to greet unprecedented situations with humanity. He interviews some very pessimistic climate scientists, but also some luminaries, like Joanna Macy and Robin Wall Kimmerer, who offer their own guidance for the rocky road we are heading down.

Then came Jamie Raskin’s “Unthinkable,” a book sharing his experience of losing his adult son in the same week as the Jan. 6 insurrection at the Capitol, where he serves his Maryland district as congressman. He became the lead manager for the second Trump impeachment, an appointment that he credits with saving his life at the depths of his sorrow over his son and fears for our nation.

The book is a masterly and wholly engaging chronicle of his efforts to navigate these two “unthinkable” events in his life. The final vote was the largest bipartisan vote for conviction in our history, but short of the necessary two-thirds of the Senate. Still, Raskin draws strength from the bravery of witnesses, the extraordinary teamwork of the eight other House members who served as impeachment managers, and the tremendous support of his constituents and neighbors.

As a constitutional law professor, he is well aware of the threat posed by the radical anti-constitutional members of Congress who support our former president as he tries to dismantle the protections of the Constitution. And still, he has faith in our ability as a people to prevail.

While it’s a film about a book, Ava Duvernay’s movie “Origin” serves as a stunning testimonial to the power of creative storytelling. The filmmaker creatively blended writer Isabel Wilkeson’s personal experience into her journey to frame her latest book: “Caste.” In turns shocking, deeply moving and illuminating, this movie demonstrates that confronting the most difficult aspects of our lives, both personal and contextual, leads to finding new ways to understand and respond to even the most intractable situations.

Like February, these disconcerting books and film have offered sunshine, light into dark corners, discouraging gray clouds, and dazzling moments of possibility. We know there is likely more cold and snow to come, even if the most recent snow was a no-show. Ironically, just as the clouds allowed the groundhog to venture out early, understanding the darker truths serves to enhance the bright shine of the freedom we are seeking.

Judy Wagner lives in Northfield.