I’m reusing most of a blog from two years ago, but it’s working again (the truly great stuff is ageless), because I’m looking out the window and snow is again falling significantly from the sky. We’re in mid April, and apparently Global Warming isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I thought last week, when it was warm and sunny, “I’ll bring out the deck furniture”. I had one fireplace log left over from the winter, so we had a fire in the fireplace this morning. That’s just not normal. I did uncover some benches on the deck, but decided on a whim to wait for the rest. Now, I’m rethinking getting the grill tank filled this weekend. Not going near that thing for a while. And, here we are, reliving the past . . . . .
I was heading into the supermarket next door one day, and was admiring the spring flowers – mostly pansies – that were displayed, as was another lady. We were just about to say something like, “maybe I should buy . . . .” when a third person came up behind us, shaking her head and saying emphatically, “DON’T DO IT. DON’T EVEN LOOK. IT’S TOO EARLY.” She was of course right. One can dream but not actually put anything out at least until early May in New England. Our weather is just too precarious. This year in particular has been whimsical. The Princess informed us that she’s bringing home her winter quilt and puffy winter overcoat to store for the summer. We’ve had periods of warmth, so the bulbs all begin to sprout, only to have that followed by cold, snow, and ice. My poor tulips are shivering. The forsythia has been in bloom for a week, and now has a covering of snow. The wild turkeys that wander through from time to time are looking thoroughly disgusted. Even the crocuses are looking skyward with a plaintive “what the heck is this?” look on their tiny, sad little blossoms.
So, I say, ok Mother Nature, it’s time for you to set down for yourself some seasonal guidelines, like people do with clothing. I’ve made the shift to my Spring caps. You won’t see me wearing anything white until after Memorial Day. Now you, Mother Dear, need to give us some weather that’s above freezing. We’re approaching that critical point where, as my wife tells me, we’re leaving “winter white” behind for, well, white. I will say that many people I see out and about, particularly the young ones, have no clue about what to wear and when. I see shorts, flip-flops, and tee shirts all winter long. Don’t these people get cold? My dear sister-in-law has recently issued the definitive statement – in her household, all fleeces, flannels, and other winter apparel have been banished because it’s late April. Doesn’t matter what is happening outside, she’s into her spring / summer sweaters now and the weather is expected to act accordingly. (Truth be told, she herself is a force of nature to be reckoned with.) Years ago, when I was teaching, a young lady informed me that the school building was too cold – in mid-winter – because she was from a tropical climate, and used to warm weather. I suggested, not to a friendly response, that as she was now in New England, perhaps she might consider dressing a bit more warmly as the tank tops clearly weren’t cutting it. That’s the delightful perspective of youth – expecting the climate to adjust to fashion trends. But I digress.
It’s well into spring. I should be out cleaning out the flower beds, removing the yard’s version of a Vin Diesel movie. I don’t expect bright blossoms yet, and I don’t even expect a photographer from “Fine Gardening” to swing by, asking to set up a photo shoot. But I want to get the initial debris cleared away so it looks a little less like the neglected home in every neighborhood. You know the one – you drive down the street and it jumps out at you from among the groomed and manicured properties. This is the place where in July the grass will be waist-high clumps among brown spots of despair. The house is only partially visible behind overgrown shrubs. Weeds are growing in cracks in the walkway. The front porch looks like it is seriously considering giving up and falling in. One or more shutters are leaning slightly off their hinges. Even the Boy Scouts avoid this property when they’re looking for community service hours. We’re in renewal mode here. The house needs some freshening up – most of the inside hasn’t been painted since we moved in 18 years ago, so I’m making my way from room to room planning color disagreements with my wife. The basement looks like “Hoarders” and “Storage Wars” merged at some point, and the garage is overflowing with faux greenery from the holidays. I don’t have time to wait on the outside weather to . . . .oops, off track again.
Let’s get our seasons in New England organized, shall we? Winter is winter. There will be periods of cold weather and snow, with just enough warming to keep us from going crazy. It should not begin until early December so we have a Currier and Ives look for the holidays. Let’s scrap this snow and ice on Halloween that’s becoming a trend of late. Spring should begin promptly in April, with buds on trees and bulbs sprouting. Is that too much to ask? If we really, really need to have hot weather, it’s restricted to a week or two in July, then mid-70’s to 80 until Labor Day. None of this hot sticky stuff unless you’re in Florida, where they’re used to it and air condition accordingly. We also have a constitutional right to a pleasant fall with bright foliage and just a hint of crispness in the air beginning November 1st. I think a well-ordered seasonal rotation is just the ticket to preserving that warm friendliness for which New Englanders are famous. Or perhaps that’s uncertain as well.
I'm Thinking...No! 