Seasonal Longing

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the donkey they rode in...I am so damned sick of winter. I hate the cruel whipping wind. I hate the grey palate of the scenery. I hate the frozen sidewalk strewn with dogshit, spit and salt residue. The air stinks of exhaust and mold. The trees have been Rachel Zoe thin for too many months. I need the change that is Spring and goddammit, I need it now. Mama is not playing. I need it now.

Today was a teaser. It was balmy and oddly warm and I saw curious signs that the weather was in fact starting to change. A man came down the street clad in a t-shirt and shorts. There was an absence of the population in heavy winter wear. Dogs being walked were without their woolly winter dog-coats. The snow from last week had melted. I think I heard a chorus of birds chortling. The wind whipping up from the Hudson was refreshing, not chilling and bitter. And Good Lord, is that THE SUN I feel upon my snowy white visage?

I hate to complain but of course I must; I am so ready for spring that I could scream. The large and lumbering trees around me are begging to be populated with vivid greenery. The cicadas are impatient to break into their seasonal choruses. I'd like to leave my apartment with less than three layers of clothing on. There are bulbs poised to break the ground and bloom with bravado. All aspects of nature are exercising their very last patience; we're done. Bring on the spring.

Bring on the fragrant air that comes with apple blossoms and gentle breezes wafting in branches rife with unfurling leaves. Bring on the magnificence of the infinite blue skies strewn with pristine cirrus clouds. Bring on the outdoor cafes and long days of daylight and guilt-free shopping for summer sandals.

I am desperate for the spring. Aren't you?