Ah, spring, you big fat tease.
When we think of you we think of the first warmth of the year, gambolling lambs, baby ducks in the park and hosts of golden daffodils. So long, winter, you cold-hearted loser. You didn’t even snow for us here this year and I’d bought a proper wooden sledge and everything. But enough of the cold and the damp, the frosty starts and drawn-in nights. Warmth and sunlight are coming! Yay!
And for a while it’s all true and it’s wonderful. I hate the cold, so get all excited at the first tulip sighting. The winter coats drop to the bottom of the coat rack. Dinner time choices get lighter and feel healthier. Going outside doesn’t feel so arduous. The world is full of blossom and optimism. And I always always think to myself, ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was like this until September?’
But it never is, is it, spring? Because spring is just one big fat tease. Spring makes us happy and bright and then, without warning (ok, a bit of warning what with weather forecasts and that) goes and plummets us back into the cold again. That’s just mean.
Especially mean because the coats and opaque tights have been relegated to the back of the wardrobe and the heating’s been turned off but to drag the woolies back out again and turn the thermostats back up feels defeatist. And so instead we shiver in our now weather-inappropriate clothes in our cold homes. Mean because we’ve (literally) seen the light and are now back to SAD sufferings. Mean because the magazines talk of getting bikini-body ready, but all we want to do is hunker back down with Netflix and our remaining Easter chocolate. Ah, it’s not as though we’ve booked a holiday yet anyway and summer seems forever away again. What’s the rush? What harm can a few kilos of chocolate do instead of the outdoorsy exercising that was so appealing a few weeks ago?
And that’s not even enough. Because despite the weather curve ball, we’re still expected to do all the sprightly spring things: cleaning and decorating and making fresh and new. It doesn’t really work when the skies are grey. I’ll put up with the dust, thanks. Cleaning just makes my eyes sting and my nose itch anyway.
Or is it the onset of hay fever? All those new blooms and cascading blossoms might be beautiful, but I can’t tell through watery eyes. Oh, and thanks also for covering my car in a layer of tree sap. Looks like I’ll be washing it again this weekend. Marvellous!
The kids’ bedtimes get trickier too because it’s lighter later and because obviously the sunniest part of a spring day is always around bedtime. How do you explain to a 2-year-old that it’s time for bed when daylight’s streaming through the curtain?
But all of those things I can accept in exchange for warmth and sun on the back of my neck. But not when it’s cold and grey and miserable. It makes me cold and grey and miserable too.
If you’re going to be such a tease, spring, could you at least have a word with summer and make sure it’s a good one. Just then I might forgive you…until you let me down next year too.