Tuesday, March 13, 2012

in like a lion?


Spring has nearly arrived.  But this year, unlike any other, I am not hungry for it.

My fuzziest socks lay unworn in the drawer, my store of tea remains undamaged by the season’s demand, my extra blanket rests lonely in the closet.   Because this year in Virginia, we saw no real snow, endured no cleansing cold. 

We didn’t hunker. 

We can think of winter as biting, painful, lonely.  But I think we also benefit from the paring down that winter asks – the trees naked, the ground sparse.  This freezing near-death of things creates a barrenness and sterility, an emptiness in our surroundings that makes way for a certain clarity of mind and spirit.  Without the clutter of outside, we turn inward. 

It’s a relief. 

And then, as with all cycles, we get tired of that.  We deplete our stores of spirit just as we deplete our stores of food.  We come to spring emptied and scoured by the cold. 

Ready.

March is supposed to be the month of transformation: in like a lion, out like a lamb after all.   In this month, we dare to let ourselves dream of spring.  We wait desperate for the sunlight that will fill us up so that we feel warmed from the inside out, instead of from the outside in. 

Except this year, the lion never showed. 

I understand that we can’t measure the degree of climate change through the sporadic weather patterns of a particular day (or season) in any given region.  I also understand, however, that the place of my home in Virginia has enjoyed a documented period of cool in recent years, despite the fact that average global temperatures have risen steadily.  Until last summer, we had been largely spared the kinds of weather we can expect from a warming climate. 

So, I wonder, is this our new “winter?” Anemic. Ambiguous. Thawed? 

It’s 70 degrees right now.  By all accounts, a rare and gorgeous day.  An April day.  A May day.  I’m sitting writing this on my deck.  The birds, reunited at last, sing a welcome to old friends in the treetops; the dog, sleeping at my side, communes with her old friend, the patch of sunlight by my chair; the daffodils and crocuses we have tried for a month to coax back into their winter fortresses, have arrived early to the party, unable to contain themselves a second longer. 

Of course I’m enjoying this day, but it lacks the usual euphoria of spring.  I don’t feel transformed.  The rhythm of the season has skipped a beat, (I suppose the lion went the way of the drummer), leaving my own clock out of wack. 

This all came home to me the other day when reading a blog I really enjoy called "the spirit of the river." The author’s post, “in like a lion” shows a picture of a snowy yard and includes a poem that aches for spring called “March” by David Budbill.  It’s about how we anticipate spring before it has a chance to arrive. 

The poem, however, doesn’t work for me this year, when spring’s reality has robbed us of anticipation, preceding the dream of itself.  And it occurs to me, will the poems of winter, whether lamenting the hard, cold dark outside, or celebrating the soft warm light inside, begin to ring false?  Will winter’s words become relics of nostalgia for a season lost?  

Of all the things I thought might change with the climate, I hadn’t considered that we’d need new poetry.

12 comments:

  1. I totally love this perspective. And totally don't share it. LOL. I'm one of those who could live in 80 degree sun every single day...and visit a snowy mountain or autumn drive in the shenandoah's as vacation. I've got enough lion in me, haha. Ironically, I'm heading to Cali to visit family...and it will be warmer here on the east coast. :) But sand between my toes, yummy.

    My son loves the seasons. And similarly feels very disappointed that there was no snow. Wait, revise, very disappointed that there were no snow days off from school. xo

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    1. yes, there is something about snow days. everything stops. a rare reprieve!

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  2. I am so very with you on this one. I just made a comment about this to an acquaintance and she looked at me like I was crazy -- I began to think I was in the minority somehow not feeling all that deserving of spring's bounties. My parents are enjoying the same weather in Florida. I don't feel ready to compare temperatures with them just yet. We still have to go skiing - at least once! And sledding -- and what to do with all that cocoa? Chocolate milk just isn't the same. You said it so beautifully and all I can say is...ditto!

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    1. thanks! yes - chocolate milk just doesn't cut it!

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  3. I too missed that snow storm which holds me captive with nothing to do but drink tea and read a good book. A New Englander at heart, I do love snow - there is nothing more beautiful than the morning after a snow storm as the sunlight reflects off the brilliant white. I also missed my birds this winter....no interest in my feeders since food was not buried under inches of snow and little buds emerged throughout the foliage giving birds a plentiful buffet to choose from. So, as I sit here at my computer in summer like attire, I still hope for that one little snow that will let me lounge for a day , engrossed in a good book. After that....let the summer begin!!

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    1. I hadn't thought of the birds - of course it's not a bad thing for them to forage, but the idea of empty feeders is sad! I too was hoping for a surprise March storm, but it doesn't look promising, does it!

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  4. Beautifully written, Deb. I do enjoy the warm, but these confused seasons are leaving me a bit discombobulated. It reached 81 degrees here in Chicago today! ...We had only a couple really good snowfalls this winter. Shortly after one, when it was all melting away, I walked by a lump of snow on the ground with some big black buttons, a hat and scarf lying there on top. The sad remains of a snowman. Now, that's a different kind of poetry.

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    1. sad snowman! I've only been to Chicago once. Ironically, it was March. I left 60 degree weather in VA (unusual at the time), with clothes appropriate for 40-50 degree days. It was comfortable when I arrived. When I woke the next morning, the temp had dropped to 20s and the wind had kicked up. I suffered! Can't believe is was 81!!

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  5. I agree so much...with some added misery--extended spring and fall without the winter freeze means extended allergy season from hell. Both Virginia and Illinois have been unusually warm (since I've spent about 6 weeks of the winter in each spot) I may not love the cold, but I *need* winter in a visceral sort of way (and not just for my wheezy, bronchitis-laden lungs!)

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    1. thalass, I agree. the cold isn't always pleasant, but there is a visceral necessity to it. hadn't thought about the allergies. what a drag!

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  6. Deb, this is such a beautiful post. I also totally agree with you on all of it, except we did have some snow. Not enough, and not enough of those days that are so cold I have to warn my children that it is dangerous to be outside for any length of time. I dread those days as I do fear that my free-spirited middle guy will wonder around outside too long or forget where the school's door is or something. He has a wonderful, imaginative, loving brain, but it is almost always distracted. Even though I dread those dangerously cold days, they are cleansing and I feel good when they are over. I feel like we need those in the Midwest so that we don't become the South.

    As I walk around my gardens I see so many flowers making their ways up through the soil and I wish they would listen when I tell them to go back to sleep for a month or so. And I wonder and fear what will happen if there is a freeze again, yet I feel we deserve one. I feel like we are cheating.

    As for needed new poety, that is a really big thought and I don't even think I can go there today. At least this warm weather puts me in last year's shorts before I became too fat for them. Despite the warmer weather this winter, I have chubbed up like a bear before hibernating. Among the other thoughts that float through my head from your blog (like don't use the paper, dummmy!) is the idea that you don't eat sugar, as I made the most frosting EVER for my son's birthday cake. It is a pumpkin cake, if that makes me a better person at all. Also, the pumpkin was from last year's CSA. Yep, I pureed and froze last year's pumpkin for this spring's cake. I am proud of that, but the frosting is as thick as the cake. So I guess sugar wins, my butt gains and I feel like a loser, sort of. WOw, digressing.

    Thanks for the beauty, Deb!

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    1. Franny, you make me laugh, as always. I think getting into last year's shorts before "chubbing up" too much to wear them is exactly the kind of poetry we need!

      Love that you froze that pumpkin. And don't be too impressed - avoiding refined sugar is a GOAL - not always achieved! and we ALWAYS make an exception at birthdays!! so enjoy your cake! :)

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