Stealth Spring
Each winter, December shivers as it looks at January, February huddles for warmth next to March, and I pass the hours moaning to anyone who will listen about how it is clearly never ever going to be warm and sunny again. Nodding in agreement, my fellow Northeasterners will invariably add that they wish it would either get much colder and snow a lot so we could go skiing or warm up a bit and melt the giant piles of brown, gravel-encrusted snow mounds on the north face of every building. With The Curse lifted from the Red Sox and the NHL season officially defunct, complaining about southern Connecticut's mushy winters has finally moved into the top spot for water cooler conversation topics.
In support of our theory of permanent winter, this year's spring thaw has taken its sweet time. As we ran around the reservoir a few weeks ago, Tim (a running peep and 30 year resident of New Haven) and I discussed how the reservoir is NEVER frozen over this late in the year. The trees are ALWAYS leafing out a little bit by this time. But not this year, oh no, this year must really be it. Spring is never coming and we have the treacherous, ice-covered running trails to prove it. We ran on, utterly satisfied with the infallibility of our theory of endless winter.
"Fools, all of them," says Mother Nature. "I'll come on all sneaky-like. They won't know what hit 'em."
This morning, I finally left the house after a lengthy scarf - no scarf debate. The wind blowing the bare tree branches next to my window clearly said "scarf." The fact that it's April 6th and I desperately want my winter theory to melt like a snow in a downpour said "no scarf." Scarfless, I stepped out of the house, to be greeted by... a warm breeze? Wuh? (clarificiation for Californians: warm = 55F).
Disorientated and a little weak due to the lack of shivering-induced muscle tension in my legs, I took off down Mansfield, squinting at the bright fire ball rising in a clear blue sky. Crossing Sachem in front of the Political Science building, I cut across the lawn, my uneasy confusing mounting as my toes detected what seemed to by soft LIVING grass underfoot.
And then I heard the buzzing.
Day after day I had sailed along this path, failing to notice that the bushes along the wall were leafing out. Now, I was shocked to find, the bushes were FLOWERING!! And there was a BEE on one of them!
I stood staring at the bushes for a while, unconcerned by the amused looks of people passing by. I wanted to stop them and by way of explanation, point out the fact that there was a real, live insect on the bush I was inspecting.
So that's it then. It happen again. The earth rotated on its axis, cruised around the sun a little further and it got warm. Weird.
Now it's time to prepare for a summer spent sharing tips on just the right way to orient ones fan in the window so that the 85 degree nights feel more like 80.
In support of our theory of permanent winter, this year's spring thaw has taken its sweet time. As we ran around the reservoir a few weeks ago, Tim (a running peep and 30 year resident of New Haven) and I discussed how the reservoir is NEVER frozen over this late in the year. The trees are ALWAYS leafing out a little bit by this time. But not this year, oh no, this year must really be it. Spring is never coming and we have the treacherous, ice-covered running trails to prove it. We ran on, utterly satisfied with the infallibility of our theory of endless winter.
"Fools, all of them," says Mother Nature. "I'll come on all sneaky-like. They won't know what hit 'em."
This morning, I finally left the house after a lengthy scarf - no scarf debate. The wind blowing the bare tree branches next to my window clearly said "scarf." The fact that it's April 6th and I desperately want my winter theory to melt like a snow in a downpour said "no scarf." Scarfless, I stepped out of the house, to be greeted by... a warm breeze? Wuh? (clarificiation for Californians: warm = 55F).
Disorientated and a little weak due to the lack of shivering-induced muscle tension in my legs, I took off down Mansfield, squinting at the bright fire ball rising in a clear blue sky. Crossing Sachem in front of the Political Science building, I cut across the lawn, my uneasy confusing mounting as my toes detected what seemed to by soft LIVING grass underfoot.
And then I heard the buzzing.
Day after day I had sailed along this path, failing to notice that the bushes along the wall were leafing out. Now, I was shocked to find, the bushes were FLOWERING!! And there was a BEE on one of them!
I stood staring at the bushes for a while, unconcerned by the amused looks of people passing by. I wanted to stop them and by way of explanation, point out the fact that there was a real, live insect on the bush I was inspecting.
So that's it then. It happen again. The earth rotated on its axis, cruised around the sun a little further and it got warm. Weird.
Now it's time to prepare for a summer spent sharing tips on just the right way to orient ones fan in the window so that the 85 degree nights feel more like 80.
posted by Eva Marie at 9:46 AM
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