Recently, I came across a joke about the harsher weather here in eastern Washington. The punchline goes like this...we have four seasons and they are Feels like Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Hot.
I'd like to announce that we have escaped the cold clutches of Winter and our now just in the beginning clutches of Still Winter. Still Winter is an odd season, full of fitful weather. One day is clear, the next is rainy, then windy, then clear, then hail, then windy, rainy, cleary and haily (spell checker doesn't work on "haily") all in one go. But like a true Spokanite, we still have our Winter supplies on hand, not fooled for a minute when the temperature climbs above sixty. Our ice melter still has a residence on our porch, our faithful snow shovels stand beside, ready at a minute's notice. In passing, we joke about last year's snow lasting until June, and then check to make sure our can of deicer is still in our glovebox. We may have the opportunity for t-shirts and shorts during Still Winter, but our sweaters and gloves are never far away.
Hot is the season that is not necessarily dictated by the weather, but by the fauna instead. Hot brings coming of insects, the bane of the exposed skin sunseeker. The temperature may climb all it likes, but nothing says Hot like a legion of mosquitoes, freshly hatched and looking for a good time. Hot is a mere few months away, but while the larva wait underground we suffer through a few more weeks of Still Winter.
Still Winter also brings with it a certain psychosis. It's a nervous manic excitement contrasting against the brooding despondency of Winter. It brings with it fits of excitement during sun breaks, and just as quickly as a cloud can intervene, changes to fits of fretful uncertainty. To illustrate my point, I will use the backyard.
Just up until a few weeks ago, there was remained a sizable lump of ice and snow, stubbornly clinging to the ground in our backyard. The snow retreated to a shady section and then retreated no more, apparently content to wait it out through Hot, and then haunt us again come Feels like Winter. Every day I would wake up, look through the kitchen window, and engage in a wily western-movie-style staredown with our resident iceberg. "Surely," I thought, "it can't last much longer, it must understand its chances are hopeless." Every day I would measure the iceberg's progress. When it hailed, it gained a bit of cover above, when it rained or was windy, this cover was then lost. But at no point did the iceberg crack or give in. Never did I see it show so much as a trickle of water.
This weekend, I cracked, I lost it, I snapped like an icicle. Under the pretense of "raking the pine needles" I crept into our backyard, unobserved. My weapon was a steel rake, which under normal circumstances would be used to clear up the years of neglect to our yard. I had more sinister plans in mind this afternoon.
Casually, I brushed off the top layer of needles from the berg. Then, after looking around to make sure nobody was about, I began scraping at the ice. Another quick scan for nosy neighbors, and then vigorous prodding ensued, trying to pierce its tough, wintry hide. Once a weak spot was formed, the gleeful bludgeoning commenced. Had a bystander's view been blocked of the ice, it must have looked like an initiation into the Better Homes and Gardens biker gang.
The cascades of snow flying from my victim only increased the fervor of my attack. And for the first time in my life I felt rage for not just a person or a thing, but an entire season. Every crummy episode in the last six months of my life poured out through that rake, faster and faster, until there was only a wide swath of white-speckled pine needles left...the last chalk outline of Winter.
So here is the moral of this otherwise mostly pointless story. No matter what climate you live in, or what weather you are experiencing (both external and internal weather), sometimes the change of the season needs a little helping along. Sometimes it's not enough to simply observe the changing of the season, or sit back and enjoy small talk with your neighbors regarding a menacing cloud or two. Sometimes, and only sometimes, it's up to you to change the weather personally. Who knows? Had I not had my particular episode, it might have snowed again. We'll never know, but I prefer in my mind to think it was me. And just to reward myself, I'll wear t-shirts and shorts and drink cold beer in the sun. That is, if it's not haily.
On the other hand, if I find out who has ushered in the season of Hot by hatching all the mosquito larvae, I think I'll use that rake on him...personally.
