It’s All Relative

We spent last week in Florida, visiting the in-laws. The two weeks before were very cold, very white, and very winter-wonderland-y. Five-foot-high piles of snow plowed to street sides, the landscape white-blanketed, evergreens and roofs white-frosted. Everywhere, I heard groans of disgust and moans of longing for spring. Yet the transient beauty of the snow enchanted me, all the more for coming late. So much better than the usual dreary browns and grays of winter’s end.  And the brilliant light reflecting off all the white, and the bursts of bird song? A gift: a cheerful harbinger of spring.

Insert a week of sub-equatorial sun and daily temps in the 80’s.

Nothing’s changed, but everything feels different. The cold needles my face and cuts down my neck around the wool scarf. The drifting snowfall grays everything out. The slippery roads, parking lots and driveways give me a pain in the patootie. And the brilliant light reflecting off all the white, and the bursts of bird song? An intolerable tease.

Making the post-vacation grocery run, I saw them. Daffodils. Spring in pots, commanding: Bring me home! To the office! Who am I to ignore nature’s call? I bought two pots, each bursting with green shoots, each with two bright yellow blooms.  Lots of swelling buds foretell more yellow smiles soon. Let it snow. Spring’s in my kitchen, all’s right with the world.

PHOTO CREDIT: Danny Cohen