Grinching
I have a secret. I don't really like Spring. I know I am supposed to -- all that busting out all over hooha -- but it is number 3 on my season list.
And it is all Virginia's fault. Living in a mild climate, I can hardly work up a good pining for spring's seed catalogs and tomato plants in peat pots. The weather just does not get cold, nasty, and miserable enough for me to seriously care if winter ends or not. Where I grew up, the first robin of spring was a thrill, a competition with your schoolmates. "I saw a robin today!" "Oh yeah? I saw one last Thursday." In Virginia, I do not see as many robins as I do turkey vultures, an eccentric bird with an important job; I'm just saying... the glamor factor is pretty low.
Autumn has gorgeous skies and constant change. Winter has the clean blanket of snow covering the world's sins. Summer has oppressive heat, blistering sun and gasping humidity. Spring has its own smorgasbord spread: the flowers (and accompanying pollen), the longer days (keeping me from sleeping in), the warm weather (meaning sweaty summer is around the corner), the confusion my body clock feels when trying to figure out what to wear for the day. Logically I know spring is a blessing, but my heart is not in it.
Until I look up. Spring's best flirt is the green mist at the top of the trees -- not yet shade when you don't yet need it but a light, ephemeral, clear, watercolor green makeup-blush (if you were red-green colorblind). Spring green is the hazy moustache of a 15-year-old boy: barely there but playing it for all it is worth.
And it is all Virginia's fault. Living in a mild climate, I can hardly work up a good pining for spring's seed catalogs and tomato plants in peat pots. The weather just does not get cold, nasty, and miserable enough for me to seriously care if winter ends or not. Where I grew up, the first robin of spring was a thrill, a competition with your schoolmates. "I saw a robin today!" "Oh yeah? I saw one last Thursday." In Virginia, I do not see as many robins as I do turkey vultures, an eccentric bird with an important job; I'm just saying... the glamor factor is pretty low.
Autumn has gorgeous skies and constant change. Winter has the clean blanket of snow covering the world's sins. Summer has oppressive heat, blistering sun and gasping humidity. Spring has its own smorgasbord spread: the flowers (and accompanying pollen), the longer days (keeping me from sleeping in), the warm weather (meaning sweaty summer is around the corner), the confusion my body clock feels when trying to figure out what to wear for the day. Logically I know spring is a blessing, but my heart is not in it.
Until I look up. Spring's best flirt is the green mist at the top of the trees -- not yet shade when you don't yet need it but a light, ephemeral, clear, watercolor green makeup-blush (if you were red-green colorblind). Spring green is the hazy moustache of a 15-year-old boy: barely there but playing it for all it is worth.
posted by Gail | 8:06 AM
1 Comments:
now if you were here in Korea, you'd be chomping on the bit for spring. This is a country that uses sand on ice. So when the ice melts, everything is basically covered with a layer of grit.
A little spring rain really makes me happy, if only to wash away the grime.
And don't get me started on the yellow dust that blows over from China...
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