Having lived on the West Coast, for almost 35 years, I had acclimated, to seasons of hot, humid, arid, and bragging about how on Thanksgiving Day, I was wearing shorts and a T-Shirt, and for New Years I reluctantly put on long pants and a long sleeve shirt, even when the temperature was in the 70’s. I grew up in Pittsburgh and spent my first 38 years thinking four seasons meant, snow in May, humidity in September, getting dressed for Trick or Treat, in October only to have your best costume EVER, be covered with a winter’s coat a scarf, and of all things boots! Wondering when spring would arrive, only to have summer heat immediately smother the hopes of breezes and blue skies. I of course exaggerate, and to this moment of my life, my recall and remembrances of Pittsburgh remain romanticized and really important.
I am now living on Cape Cod, back east, back to REAL WEATHER. Am I totally excited when the high is below freezing, or snow falls in deep inches; maybe not, but it was a choice, and living in a place I find as my form of Nirvana, removes the negatives which may now and then pop up.
But today, because it was a warm 43 degrees (I remember living in Pittsburgh and when suddenly in February or March, the temperature was in the 40’s we pulled out shorts), I took a walk, minus the scarf, sweater, and ski cap which makes me look like a garden gnome. I decided the sun was bright enough, no clouds in the sky, and FUCK politics for just this moment; and I would reestablish my commitment to Mother Nature. And I did so, and I did so with a smile and a sense that for NOW, let the Madness be consumed by Basketball, and peace and tranquility find me! And what I found, instead were the tiny blossoms of crocus etching and reaching out from piles of snow and mud, eagerly embracing a new life, a new breath. I stopped, and actually, instead of smelling the flowers, I SMILED at the flowers. And as I did so, a wave of melancholy wafted over me, and for a brief moment, I felt my mother hold my hand as she did when I was young, and say ever so gently to me, “Life can fool you, it can seem dim and dull, gone and forgotten, but just look at the effort and energy these crocus attempt to blossom. Their time may be short, but it is the promise they bring them, that no matter how DIFFICULT, just continue to live!” Spring is here, and my love for my mother has never wavered. And in these days when we have no idea what may or may not come next, be a crocus!
