Two weeks before the first day of Spring, I peered through my bedroom window to observe a beautiful panorama of fresh fallen snow. Snowflakes appeared everywhere — in the woods, over the lawn, and on my shrubbery, cascading downwardly into my yard. The snow balanced perfectly on the tree branches, lightly compacting to form white arms following nature’s shape, twisting and undulating on twig and limb, portraying dark irregular images below a pure white matching layer, several times thicker. Snow caps obscured the shrubbery tops, and much of their sides, displaying a random patchwork of white accented with flecks of green. The white blanketed lawn remained unblemished by any imperfections from bird or animal activities, beauty at its best.

While admiring this exquisite beauty, my eyes irresistibly shifted to the asphalt pavements and delightfully confirmed no accumulation, thus exhibiting a stark black and white contrast, with sporadic sprigs of green life on a sunless day. To my mind, any snowfall that fails to accumulate on the roadways qualifies as the prettiest of all. One can appreciate its full beauty without disturbing visions of snow shovels — or plows that block the driveway exit with a snow rampart, thus adding chores and inconvenience to one’s day. Snow beauty sans inconvenience makes the tranquil scene more pleasurable.

As I absorbed myself within the three dimensional bucolic scene, I recalled some lines from Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” A driver had stopped his horse drawn carriage to watch the “woods fill up with snow” and when his horse gave “his harness bells a shake” to continue down the road, the only other sound the driver heard: “the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.” These words described my sense as I observed one of nature’s finest moments from the warm side of my bedroom window.

In my youth, upon hearing the word “practice,” I held my ears, stomped my feet, and uttered disgruntled sounds, hoping that my tantrum could avoid the inevitable. Not a day passed without practice: writing my numbers and letters, reciting the multiplication tables, playing a musical instrument, or participating in a sport. In truth, I practiced more than I ever cared to do, but confirm reluctantly, that practice definitely improved my performance. While I did not always embrace practice, I always enjoyed the better performance.

In growing up, I recall three oft-repeated sayings, which If reduced into memorable acronyms, become (1) PPP, (2) PMP and (3) PPPP. Hint: At least one P in each represents “practice.”

(1) “Practice! Practice! Practice!” is clearly redundant, if not over the top. A simple command “Practice!” should suffice, without throwing a tantrum in triplicate. Even a policeman’s shout: “Halt!” will stop a marauder. Two more Halts adds little. The words “or I’ll Shoot,” however, will always gain more attention than “Halt! Halt! Halt!”

(2) “Practice Makes Perfect” probably ranks high among favorite sayings. It sounds nice rolling of the tongue; but in the real world, few people strive to be perfect; and when they do, they experience disappointment and unhappiness, because no one can reach perfection. I would have preferred growing up to a slightly different approach, like: “A Little Practice Makes One Better.” Actually, striving to become better at something is a more healthy approach than hyperventilating over imperfection. Arguably, a famous football coach agreed, adding a twist: “Practice does not make perfect; only perfect practice makes perfect.” Vince Lombardi (1913-1970)

(3) “Practice Prevents Poor Performance,” otherwise slangily referred to as the “four P’s.” No hint of seeking perfection here, just work on what you do not do as well, so you do not screw up in the game. A bonus: you improve overall, a worthy goal.

To be sure, practice alone remains insufficient, for most people will practice what they know instead of what they do not know. To be effective, practice must be deliberate, focusing on tasks that one does not do well, and includes two goals: 1) improving your current skills, and 2) extending their reach and range. (Harvard Business Review, hbr.org/2007/07/the-making-of-an-expert,) In this way, even a little practice will make one better.