The wind is fierce this morning. From my second story “office” I can not only see it, the tall treetops behind the houses across the street and swaying and shifting in a elegant dance, but I can hear it too, a none-too-gentle moaning sound that sweeps around the corner of the house and across the front yard.
While popular usage of the term “blown away” refers to being extremely impressed by something, I can’t say I feel that way about this spring’s weather. In fact, I’d say the many chilly, gray, rainy and windy spring days are knocking my off my moorings in a more literal way. It manifests itself in physically, with headaches, sinus pressure, poor appetite. But also in an emotional way with a longing, an ache to feel warmth and sun. For the heaviness in the atmosphere to lift, for the energy of spring to, well - spring.
My mother and grandmother both were very attuned to weather. Both of them were terrified of storms - thunder and snow storms alike. Coming from a long line of farmers, I suppose it was in their blood: after all, weather was totally related to one’s livelihood, and could make all the difference between having food to sell and eat and ending up with nothing. My mom suffers in the winter - not only with her arthritis pain, but with being trapped inside. As soon as spring arrives and she’s able to putter around in her yard, her blood pressure comes down, she moves more confidently and quickly, and her appetite improves. The past two years have been particularly difficult for her, and I’m as eager for spring to arrive for her benefit as I am for mine.
I know it will get here, it always does. I think I felt entitled to an early spring, after the long and punishing winter cold. This week (spring break!) I’ve woken every morning to gunmetal gray skies, cold, and sometimes icy rain. My inner child is stamping her foot and pouting in protest.
But all I can do is stand my ground and wait.
And try not to get blown away in the process.