It’s been a long winter and as I write this it’s sunny but bitterly cold, with another storm system moving through over the next couple of days. We’re close to tying our previous record for the most sub-zero days over a winter season, set back in the 1970s. Our winter weather pattern has been snow, followed by biting cold, followed by a slight warm-up that brings more snow. I’ve long since lost my enchantment with the Christmas-card loveliness of the winter landscape and it’s limited, dual-color palette of brown and white. My winter-weary eyes long for color: green grass and trees with leaves, pansies and tulips and lilies thrusting impudent faces skyward.
It’s human nature to want what we don’t have, and I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t blessed with an abundance of patience. While not wishing time or days away–they fly too quickly, anyway–I’m ready for a change.
Spring is one of my favorite times of the year, the world waking up and bursting with the brilliance you only see early in the season, before summer’s more intense heat leaches everything of color. Birds singing in the mornings, fireflies winking in the soft twilight like small mobile stars. Longer days, celebrated by outdoor activities–biking and walking, hiking and swimming, grilling out on the deck. Sleeping with the windows open. My heart years for all of this, and more.
We are an impatient people; today’s technology has made us less willing to wait for anything. We want instant gratification and so far, we haven’t found a way to bend the seasons to our will. I hope we never do. We’ve altered so many things already.
I’ve lived long enough to learn that more isn’t necessarily better; neither is faster. All of our collective moaning and groaning can’t make spring arrive any quicker–there’s not an app for that.