Spring
When I lived in San Francisco, I never really appreciated spring. My favourite season was autumn. For me, there was nothing as wonderful as the tang of the newly-chilly mornings combined with basking in the warmth late afternoon sun. Smoke from distant chimneys would begin to scent the evening air, a smell I associated with snug evenings curled up with a good book. Fall in the Bay Area always gave us a delightful last gasp of summer; we were nearly always guaranteed a warm spell in late September or October, and somehow when that weather hit, the blues seemed brighter and the golds golder and the richness of the air was like drinking a fine glass of wine.
Ironically, for most San Franciscans, and in fact, for many people living outside the City, that last gasp was one of the few glimpses of summer we actually got. If you lived in the fog belt, you only got summer if you got in your vehicle and drove north or south. You certainly didn't go to the beach, unless you loved the mist and wind and gray sands. Summer snuck in from time to time; we would have a hot spell and we would gasp for air. My friend Raymond always joked that the City's air-conditioning was on the fritz. But then, we would see the fog that had been held at bay slipping its way over the hills to the west and we would sigh in sticky relief.
Winter and spring seemed to run together in a puddle of rainstorms. Oh yes, the daffodils would bloom in February and lift our spirits and the hills would begin to green, but I don't ever remember feeling strongly about springtime. It was nice, but nothing special.
But today, even after what can only be described as a short winter, I am filled with a sense of joy and relief. The sun is shining, the trees are showing a haze of green and the tulips seem determined to grow at least 2 centimetres a day. Last night, a thunderstorm blew its torrential way through our neighbourhood and left as quickly as it came, clearing the debris of winter away. And as I drove home at nearly 6 o'clock, I realized that I still had almost an hour of sunshine left in my day and I was elated. Spring!
What a wonderful season.
Ironically, for most San Franciscans, and in fact, for many people living outside the City, that last gasp was one of the few glimpses of summer we actually got. If you lived in the fog belt, you only got summer if you got in your vehicle and drove north or south. You certainly didn't go to the beach, unless you loved the mist and wind and gray sands. Summer snuck in from time to time; we would have a hot spell and we would gasp for air. My friend Raymond always joked that the City's air-conditioning was on the fritz. But then, we would see the fog that had been held at bay slipping its way over the hills to the west and we would sigh in sticky relief.
Winter and spring seemed to run together in a puddle of rainstorms. Oh yes, the daffodils would bloom in February and lift our spirits and the hills would begin to green, but I don't ever remember feeling strongly about springtime. It was nice, but nothing special.
But today, even after what can only be described as a short winter, I am filled with a sense of joy and relief. The sun is shining, the trees are showing a haze of green and the tulips seem determined to grow at least 2 centimetres a day. Last night, a thunderstorm blew its torrential way through our neighbourhood and left as quickly as it came, clearing the debris of winter away. And as I drove home at nearly 6 o'clock, I realized that I still had almost an hour of sunshine left in my day and I was elated. Spring!
What a wonderful season.
posted by allison | 6:23 PM
1 Comments:
I'm loving spring this year, too. Although this winter hasn't been *so* bad, I'm glad it's over. Bring on summer, I say!
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