Story-A-Day #158: Spring Fling

SPRING FLING

As the days get warmer, and the hours of sunlight drag out longer, it is easy to forget about the dull hibernation brought on by a long winter.

Jackets remain open, toques and mittens are tucked away, and the discordant harmonies of competing bird song fill the air with optimism and hope for brighter days to come.

As the sluice of winter slowly fades away and the first rains of spring rinse the streets of the accumulated sand and salt of winter road care, the world slowly returns to the way it should be. Things looks fresh: the grass grows green, the trees start to blossom, and colourful patches of flowers appear where there was only dull grey-brown waste before.

It is a time of renewal. A great seasonal fling where all the frustrations of cyclical seasons slowly wash away. The world flirts with us on those days. She teases us with the beauty that is to come; the humming drone of the cicadas and clear star-filled skies.

And we flirt right back, with the world, and with each other. We pick up stray trash on the streets, confident that our meager efforts will make a difference, letting the world know that we do care. We wear less clothing, provocative outfits that show our embrace of the coming summer months, as well as our enthusiasm for the attention of others.

We are all in love during those heady weeks. We are in love, yet anxious for the more endearing and heartfelt relationship we share with summer. And perhaps that is why it happens..

The optimism of spring is easily dashed.

Just as that optimism mounts to a fever pitch, as our hormones and hopes threaten to overwhelm us entirely, spring lets us know that she is still a power to be contended with.

Sometimes she will give us endless weeks of rain, turning the world into a soggy morass. Sometimes, she can be harsher still, transitioning from a day of full on sunshine, to a fierce blizzard that blankets the world under untoward inches of snow.

And so we dig through our closets for those mittens once more, clamber through our sheds and garages for that willfully abandoned snow shovel, and we succumb to her wishes.

She still has the power, but it is fleeting. The majesty of summer will not be held at bay for long. Summer is too strong for that, too respect and admired.

No, this is nothing but the tantrum of a spoiled princess who sees her appreciation waning in favour of the next big thing. We take her point, bear it with pride, and know that it will all be over soon.