Spring has never been a great season for me either Francesca. I can blame it on the contrast between the first half of so many school-years, fall/winter which always felt like the beginning of an adventure and winter/spring which always felt feckless and urgent at the same time. I can blame it on decades of seasonal allergies that started in my twenties and (huh) seemed to subside beginning in the pandemic (when I had just retired, so maybe I was allergic to office work). I can relate it directly to a sense of "Yes, this is beautiful but it means summer is coming," and I am NOT a summer person; heat, and dressing for heat, both make me desperately uncomfortable. More recently, too, "summer's coming" means "wildfire season is coming," and I can't begin to describe the dread that clutches me each time I remember that.
And then there's the wisteria over the porch-door at my church, and the sycamore trees leafing out up and down the block, and and and ... I get it, I do. I just don't *feel* right, though, this time of year.
Hi, Elizabeth - oh gosh, the fires! I can imagine that trumps everything else when it comes to how one might otherwise feel about a season. I love your language around feckless / urgent at the same time - that feels so apt for me, as well! And the beauty of the sycamore and wisteria bumping up against the felt sense, though, that something is just “off.” I’m so glad I’m not the only one! Also, lololol re the workplace allergies! Thank you for sharing your perspectives! xo
Francesca- I love the way you write. Up here in the great white North (Edmonton), spring always seems to come late. .We have just had 6 consecutive months where there was snow on the ground. The trees are finally budding now, showing that beautiful green that only lasts for a couple of weeks. And then will come summer. It has been a very tough year for me. None of the seasons have brought me joy. All is grey.
Hi Dan - thanks for telling me about the snow and the new buds on the trees. I know this has been such a hard year for you. I’m always so glad to hear from you, I’m glad you’re getting outside, and I’m glad you’re here.
Spring has never been a great season for me either Francesca. I can blame it on the contrast between the first half of so many school-years, fall/winter which always felt like the beginning of an adventure and winter/spring which always felt feckless and urgent at the same time. I can blame it on decades of seasonal allergies that started in my twenties and (huh) seemed to subside beginning in the pandemic (when I had just retired, so maybe I was allergic to office work). I can relate it directly to a sense of "Yes, this is beautiful but it means summer is coming," and I am NOT a summer person; heat, and dressing for heat, both make me desperately uncomfortable. More recently, too, "summer's coming" means "wildfire season is coming," and I can't begin to describe the dread that clutches me each time I remember that.
And then there's the wisteria over the porch-door at my church, and the sycamore trees leafing out up and down the block, and and and ... I get it, I do. I just don't *feel* right, though, this time of year.
Hi, Elizabeth - oh gosh, the fires! I can imagine that trumps everything else when it comes to how one might otherwise feel about a season. I love your language around feckless / urgent at the same time - that feels so apt for me, as well! And the beauty of the sycamore and wisteria bumping up against the felt sense, though, that something is just “off.” I’m so glad I’m not the only one! Also, lololol re the workplace allergies! Thank you for sharing your perspectives! xo
oh my goodness and now the fire…. I’m so sorry.
Francesca- I love the way you write. Up here in the great white North (Edmonton), spring always seems to come late. .We have just had 6 consecutive months where there was snow on the ground. The trees are finally budding now, showing that beautiful green that only lasts for a couple of weeks. And then will come summer. It has been a very tough year for me. None of the seasons have brought me joy. All is grey.
Hi Dan - thanks for telling me about the snow and the new buds on the trees. I know this has been such a hard year for you. I’m always so glad to hear from you, I’m glad you’re getting outside, and I’m glad you’re here.