We all have those moments, don’t we? One storm too many and we’re pushed over the top. Here in New England, you’d think we’d be used to it, but no. This past week, almost two feet of snow, with almost three feet closer to our seacoast extremities – “the Cape and the Islands.” (For those from away, that’s Cape Cod, Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard.) Howling winds. The lights flickering from time to time. And worse, the cable going out during Bridgerton.
Not exactly my expectation as we head into March. A major storm – what’s called a “Nor’easter” in New England, buried us earlier, and yet, in nature’s cruelty, it’s snowing again – that thin, steady downward drift of frozen precipitation that doesn’t bode well for my going outside. In fact, I called to cancel another medical treatment because it’s twenty miles away, and the streets are already snow-covered. Cowardly, perhaps!
I went over to the hardware store across the street yesterday, and while at the self-checkout, I saw the lovely lady that runs their garden center. She smiled and said that they were opening the first week of April. Although it’s a warming thought, I’m not betting on it. I then stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. The sun was shining, and I remarked about it. The young lady bagging my things gave me a “shush”, and told me that Mother Nature was listening. She’s right of course. Retribution for the sun will come swiftly and without mercy in a day or two, or possibly by afternoon.
In full disclosure, if some of this sounds just a teensy bit familiar, that’s because I’ve stolen bits and pieces from a few years ago. It still holds true, though, so I make no apologies. Ok, Ye Gods of Nature, it’s time for you to set down for yourself some seasonal guidelines, like people do with clothing. I’m getting sick of flannel shirts and heavy sweatshirts inside, while outside, parkas, puffy vests and boots. I’m ready to shift to my Spring caps and light jackets. Now you need to give us some weather that’s above freezing. You need to show us that global warming isn’t just the ice cap in the arctic and polar bears looking forlorn. We’re approaching that critical point where, as my wife tells me, we’re leaving “winter white” behind for, well, regular white. I will say that many people I see out and about, particularly the young ones, have no clue what to wear and when. I see shorts, flip-flops, and tee shirts even on the coldest days, and they seem totally oblivious to the outside weather. Don’t these people feel the cold? I do, even when it’s 65 inside and my wife tells me it’s “awfully hot in here.” It shouldn’t matter what is happening outside, when we start transitioning to spring attire, the weather is expected to act accordingly. Years ago, when I was teaching, a young lady informed me that the school building was too cold for her – this in mid-winter, mind you – because she was from a tropical climate, and used to much warmer weather. I smiled and suggested, with my trademark warmth, that as she was now in New England, perhaps she might consider dressing a bit more warmly. Clearly, the tank tops alone wouldn’t do. That’s the delightful perspective of youth – expecting the climate or the school’s heating system to adjust to their dictates of fashion.
We’re clearly moving into spring, and by rights, I should be planning my spring plantings, pouring over the spring gardening magazines, looking at the newest hybrid plants and this coming year’s colors, all while waiting not too patiently for the spring bulbs to emerge in all their glory. Instead, I’m still looking at piles of snow resembling the Rockies, and thinking that maybe Florida might not be so bad. (On reflection, yes, it is.) I saw a rabbit out front the other day searching in vain for something to eat. Perhaps I should have thrown it a carrot. And the only consolation is that large swaths of the South are no better off than we are. In truth, their “freezing” is our “rather balmy”, for us a “no gloves” day. I don’t expect any significant growth or 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 started getting initial debris cleared away so it looks a little less like the neglected home in the neighborhood. You know the one – you drive down the street and it jumps out at you from among the other groomed and manicured properties. Definitely past the stage where I track ice-melt in the back door. We’re in renewal mode here. And my houseplants are looking despairing for two days of consecutive sunshine coming through the windows. At the very least, a couple of days of “partly cloudy.”
Remember in November and December how we had that giddy anticipation of the first snowfall? Will we have a “white” Christmas? We checked to make sure the shovels were ready, and the snowblower would start. We checked the supplies of ice melt. And then, to our delight, it came. But now, as those first snowflakes drift down, we think, “oh, crap”. When the local meteorologist utters those dreaded words, “We have a storm warning in effect for . . . .”, an uncontrollable urge to hit the mute button ensues. I can’t even watch when they tell us how many inches, or feet we’ll get. Yes, it’s unbearable.
As I review the efforts of President Trump to take over Greenland, and the natives’ stubborn resistance to his plans, a tiny part of me wonders, why? Yes, it’s strategic and mineral-rich, but it’s also cold. Very cold. For much of the year. I think, though, he’s using the wrong bait. If he told them he’d do a swap – Greenland for, say, South Carolina. Lots of nice coastal homes and beaches – Myrtle Beach, Hilton Head. Or, if they’d prefer, beautiful mountain areas in the west. Warmth, sun, golf courses. We’d have to move some South Carolinians out, of course, and make Danish the official state language, but that’s the price you pay if you want something. Yes, we just have to show the Greenlanders a few brochures and we’d have a deal. In your face, Vladimir Putin. Here’s how you do a land deal. Once again, however, I’ve managed to stray off topic.
So, working in partnership with Mother Nature, fossil fuels, and climate change, 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. My preference would be that it should not begin until early December so we have a Currier and Ives look for the holidays. Spring should begin in mid to late March, and start to seriously bud in April, with signs of green on the 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 no more than 80 until Labor Day. None of this hot sticky stuff unless you’re, well, in Florida, where they and the reptiles are used to it. We also have a constitutional right to a pleasant fall with bright foliage and just a hint of crispness in the air beginning in late October, just in time for pumpkin spice lattes. I think a well-ordered seasonal rotation is just the ticket to preserving that warm friendliness for which New Englanders are so well known. Or possibly . . . .
Continue reading “Officially Sick of Winter”
I'm Thinking...No! 