WASHINGTON, D.C. -- Outside my window, patches of snow from this winter's storm linger as we slowly ease into spring. Officially, spring arrives on the vernal equinox today, but here in the Northeast its arrival is often hidden beneath a layer of white.

Growing up in my Pittsburgh home, I got used to having snow on the ground when spring showed up. But for me, the first day of spring always meant more than the weather gave it credit. It was "Noruz," the Persian New Year. In Farsi, the word literally means "new day."

As our family prepared for the New Year's festivities -- growing decorative lentil grass or sabzi, buying hyacinth flowers and dying eggs -- my parents were nostalgic for the Iran they had left behind.

Halfway across the globe, they said, where the snow had cleared months ago, flowers were blooming, trees were regaining their leaves and everyone was clearing their slates for a new beginning. But in Pittsburgh, no lights or decorations adorned the streets. School and work went on as usual. The day after we celebrated, I'd walk outside and usually step into snow and, pretty soon, the spring festival turned into wintry farce.

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One year, when I was in high school, my family planned a three-week trip to Iran during the New Year. I was eager to finally see how Noruz was really supposed to be celebrated.

But that year, Noruz coincided with Muharram, the first month of the Islamic calendar, during which Shia Muslims grieve for those lost in the Battle of Karbala thousands of years ago, specifically the Prophet Muhammad's grandson, Imam Hussein.

Instead of decorations and flowers, we were welcomed with procession after procession of men chanting rhythmically, "Hussein, Hussein," while beating themselves with lightweight chains (a form of self-flagellation that is more symbolic than painful). Instead of smiles and laughter, we were surrounded by sobs, by devout people in mourning who were dressed in black from head to toe.

But Iranians have a tendency to make the best out of unfortunate circumstances.

From inside my grandmother's house in Tehran, it was clear that spring had arrived. Her haft-sin table -- a traditional spread of objects and foods representing spring and new beginnings, including garlic, spices, gold coins and apples -- was beyond compare. We gathered for dinner and exchanged eidi, or gifts, while loudspeakers outside blasted the names of martyrs from battles long ago. I had never known a warmer Noruz.

It was only then that Noruz had felt like it marked something completely new to me. And while I've grown used to the cold spring weather in Pittsburgh over the years, I cannot shake Iran from my thoughts. I imagine the green trees, beautiful jasmine flowers and colorful decorations.

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In an increasingly undemocratic and restrictive Iran, even joy can feel decorative. And at this time of fresh starts, Iranians must feel more held back, more stuck in yesteryear than I have ever felt during any snow-laden Pittsburgh Noruz.

Last June, in the aftermath of the presidential election between incumbent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and challenger Mir-Hossein Mousavi, we saw the beginnings of a movement the likes of which, historians said, were last seen during the 1979 Islamic Revolution.

But today's pro-democracy Green Movement is not a revolution; it seeks only reform. It began as a protest against clearly fraudulent election results and has persisted as a force for civil rights. That it has remained alive at all in the face of brutal suppression is a good sign.

While Mr. Ahmadinejad and Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei continue to crack down on protests, it's comforting to know that in the past few months, the movement's message has been making its way to the top, winning over several members of Iran's high-ranking clergy, including Hassan Khomeini, grandson of the late Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini.

Last month, Iranian opposition websites and blogs announced that the Feb. 11 anniversary of the Islamic Revolution would be an opportunity for the Green Movement to gain ground. But against heavy security, protesters were dispersed. In the days since, as more dissidents are jailed or killed, we must wonder whether the movement has run its course.

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This Noruz, like every Noruz, Iranians will deck their houses with flowers and painted eggs, greens and goldfish, all signs of the coming spring. They will visit relatives and friends, give gifts and blessings.

I can only hope that those who live halfway across the globe aren't held back by wintry weather or close-minded leaders -- and that they can seize the new day.

Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.