Is It Spring Yet?

Over the weekend, I was discussing with Stephani the idea of forcing the seasons. She revealed to me that she’d recently moved her winter shoes to the back of her closet, and put her warmer-weather shoes in front. It’s not just a practical thing, she said, it’s psychological. After all, it’s May and even if the weather is still on the cooler side, it’s still springtime according to the calendar. I can buy into that, I replied, and told her that in a similar vein, I refuse to wear my winter coat until at least December 1 because every fall, I refuse to give into winter before I absolutely have to.

I’m posting this story because I feel like in recent years it’s taken longer and longer for spring to actually arrive, and quite frankly I’m sick of it. What happened to spring? It seems like we’ve gotten into a pattern of skipping over the season completely and going directly from winter right into summer. As spring is my favorite season, this simply will not stand.

Today, the third cold and gloomy day in a row here in Boston, I’ve done my part to force the season. At the risk of sounding like a girly-man, I’ll admit that I deliberately wore one of my brighter shirts — an orange, blue, green, white, and red striped one from the Gap — and it seems to be working. Aside from being told by various people that I look “citrusy” (as opposed to “fruity,” thank you very much) and that I can be seen from across the office, I can actually feel the weather changing. Through the skylights of my office, I can detect a clearing of the sky. The rain has stopped. And when I go out for lunch in a few minutes I’ll verify if, in fact, the temperatures are actually climbing.

Sure, this God complex is probably all in my head, and if I had only watched the weather report last night I would have known that regardless of what I wear and do, temperatures will be in the low 70s on Friday. But still, I think Stephani was onto something and that it has to be in my head if I want there to be a spring this year. If mother nature’s not going to cooperate, then I say, “Screw her.”