Flux

It rained for the first time the other day! Yay! It felt so nice. It felt like Summer was right around the corner.

Usually I'm not aching for Summer to come, as Winter is so very awesome, but this Winter was just so mild and blah I don't want to suffer through it anymore. There were no notable storms, only a single memorable bombardment with snow (which made me so happy!), it started late and it's ending early. It sucked this year. I kept waiting for Winter to happen but it never stayed long enough to count. Please Winter, come back next year. I really miss you.

Now that I have come to terms with the fact that the white season fell quite short this time around, I am positively shrivelling up inside at the thought of Spring--the very worst season of them all. I dislike Spring for a number of reasons: I don't know if I should dress for the coldness of the morning or the heat of the afternoon--which coat? Winter? Fall? Any coat at all? I have to tuck my pants into my socks because the bottoms get soaked and it's uncomfortable the rest of the day and every time I walk the dog, which is between three and five times a day, I have to dry off her underside, legs and feet which follows up with my having dirt all over me and Clara being in a bad mood (she hates being dried off). There are two pros to Spring most of the time: the thunderstorms and wearing my rubber boots. However, this year I discovered my rubber boots' redundancy: there are holes in both of them. It sucks. I need to get that fixed. So the only good thing I have left is thunder and lightning, those awe-inspiring, empowering spectacles of art God sends us.

In addition to all of this negativity in spring, there is another thing: it's so ugly! People speak about Spring as if it is this aesthetic wonder of nature, with colourful plants erupting from the tired earth in every direction, bringing joy and laughter to all the children who roll around in the meadow beneath the shade of a great Oak tree.

Not the case.

All around is brown--mud, puddles, dirt left on top of the once-peaceful snow, dirtied-up cars and dead grass underneath it all, as well as leaves not raked from two seasons ago. The trees aren't alive yet, the cats are still vomiting inside the house and most of the birds aren't home. The world is harried. Fall is a pretty transition, preparing gracefully for the coming madness, whereas Spring is an ugly one, reminding us of all the darkness anticipating discovery below.