Le Sacre du Printemps

In light of what the calendar says, and despite what some forecasts had called for around my area for this weekend, on this, the first full day of Spring, I will continue to whine about a winter I so hope is really and truly finally over (though I am still suspicious). Not nearly as much as I am over it.

If you live in most of these occasionally United States I know you know whereof I mewl. And sitting in the shelter of Long Island Sound I would not be surprised to learn we here in Southeastern Connecticut got off lighter than many others. According to forecasters and weather trackers this winter we didn't get what we usually get. More importantly for me, we probably didn't get what we deserve (thank goodness), but in my case certainly more than I bargained for.

And I also concede that none of the past cold weather kvetching will keep me from piteously bleating when the heat and humidity of August finally arrive because they never come on little cat feet but stomp right in wearing Size 44 Triple E jump boots. Where oh where will any of that polar vortex be when that happens? Your guess will be as good as mine, and probably better.

I endorse the idea that worrying and complaining about the weather, while human and often humorous, is a waste of our time and talents. It changes nothing and dilutes our enjoyment of the moment in which we find ourselves.

Now and Zen, I remember, "Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes and the grass grows by itself." Make a moment for yourself to take off your thirsty boots and stay very still for awhile so you can enjoy the shifting of the seasons in your own time and at your own pace.

Spring, the most hopeful of seasons, awaits. I hope yours will be everything you want, and perhaps more importantly, everything you need.
-bill kenny