Unnatural warmth

Today for about the fifth or so day in a row it’s been terribly warm where I live. Around this time of year it’s usually freezing cold, snowy, with the temperatures plunging below zero every now and then. But as I write this it is 61 degrees outside.

Which, definitely, means it is a lot more pleasant outside than usual – it is sunny, the air smells wonderful, and moss has covered the ground in a luscious green carpet. It feels like spring. And if it was spring, I’d love it. But it’s winter.

I feel like I’ve been cheated. Observing the transition from winter to spring every year is one of my favorite things to do. Noticing how the snow turns into puddles, watching for the first hints of green in a grey and white landscape, cherishing the first days when the icy cold releases its rigid hold on my bones and the new warmth melts my body into graceful fluidity as I walk outside – these are all things that make spring feel so special, so beautiful. Right now I feel like someone who has accidentally stumbled upon a huge spoiler before getting a chance to read the book. 

This good weather feels unnatural and unearned. The warm and colorful pleasures of spring usually come after a bitterly cold and grey winter and that is when they feel the most precious, the most uplifting. This warm weather feels like a cheap handout. A participation award instead of an award won for merit. Getting free food when you are already full. It is bland, like the strawberries sold in the store that have been picked before they are ripe and are thus still white on the inside, tinged with sour immaturity. In comparison, spring that has been given time to blossom is like a home-grown strawberry that blushes bright red inside and out and bursts in your mouth with juicy sweetness.  Biting into this fragrant, ambrosial fruit you feel it was well worth the wait and the effort it took to grow it, that hardships endured only make it taste all the more sweet.

This unnatural warmth is pleasant on the surface, but on the inside it is rotten. As much as I usually despise cold weather, I long to feel freezing winds and snowflakes on my cheeks again. I want to fully struggle through a frigid winter before I am gifted with a luscious spring.

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