Wring a Ding Ding: Is it Spring?
Though the official calendar date signifying spring has arrived, winter is still lingering about. It’s behaving like that kid in the backseat of the car in front of you who is blowing raspberries. It’s irritating, but you can’t do much about it. That’s what those sneaky little morning snow flurries are to me: winter raspberries.
After a long, such a long winter, by March 20th, I am truly ready for spring. Instead a snow flurry greeted the morning. The only Flurry I’m interested in is from Dairy Queen, and last time I had one it gave me a freeze brain headache. Just like this lingering winter is doing.
Mitch Teemley is suggesting we called this odd hiccup in seasons Sprinter as winter and spring see saw back and forth. My suggestion is Wring as in it wrings my heart that winter won’t pack up and leave. Winter this year reminds me of that irritating guest that doesn’t take a hint and head out while some good thoughts still might be mustered up about them.
Even though the snow dust melts by mid morning and it becomes warm enough to sit outside draped in coat, hat, and possibly gloves to read a book, the bruising of a long winter remains.
I thought Spring’s friendly, healing sunshine along with robin reappearance and daffodil budding was curative enough.
Then Sunday.
The Hubs, knowing my winter sensitivity, gently warned me, “Don’t be alarmed, but it’s snowing outside.” First reaction is to growl at the messenger, but I restrained myself. He no doubt thought he was doing me a favor by preparing me. Second reaction was to dredge up my old Lamaze breathing techniques to calm myself whilst closing my eyes intoning; “This will pass. This will pass. This will pass.”
Unfortunately, the snow hadn’t melted by 9 am and as we made our way to church and as I gazed upon the snow sprinkled landscape as we drove , that clenching melancholy of “Ack! Winter’s back” briefly returned.
I got over it.
The had melted by the time service was over. Divine intervention.
As March succumbs to April, I have to remind myself of the old adage that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.
I’m a bit weary of winter’s raspberry blowing. But you know what? Instead of putting up with the annoyance—like having to tolerate the kid in the backseat window—I can change lanes. Why not? Instead of being a snowbird (too many complications), the idea of leaving when winter is rescinding and coming back when the daffodils are perky is actually quite appealing. Trots off to look up travel destinations for next March.
Anyone else travel whilst March roars and return when April is ready to cavort?
Pam Webb 