Spring? Ahead?

We sit here pensively awaiting the onslaught of today's "wintry mix" followed by hours of heavy wet snow falling. Earlier we did grocery shopping so we wouldn't run out of necessities like coffee, tissues or tp. Since the food co-op in Cambridge is next to a book store (as is the one in Stillwater), we picked up a couple more books, just in case it snows more than we are anticipating. It wouldn't do to be snow bound and run out of reading material. Around here that's highly unlikely but we wanted to be sure.

some years dogwood brightens as early as February

Photo by J. Harrington

While driving around this morning, we noticed that the local thicket(?), copse(?), of dogwood stems have gained their bright red Spring colors. The nearby Sunrise River is ice covered and the intervening marshes are snow bound. Will we get a slow melt or a rapid one once the new accumulations of snow cease?Is this Winter's pattern of relatively mild, then extreme cold, then record-setting snowfall, going to be a new "normal" in our disrupted climate? We hope not. A more gradual buildup, peak and diminishment is to be much preferred. It's easier to adapt to and design for more gentle transitions than abrupt extremes.

sunrise occurs at sun up and vice versa

Photo by J. Harrington

The fact that we "Spring ahead" tonight doesn't mean that we'll get any less snow. It'll just continue to fall until a later hour in the morning. Mother Nature is far from bound by our arbitrary and capricious boundaries, time zones, or seasonal definitions. But you knew that already, didn't you. Here's a history of Daylight Savings Time in case you care. Frankly, we don't care whether we're on standard or daylight time. We're tired of changing twice a year for no real benefit.

Day after Daylight Savings

By Margaret Hasse

Blue numbers on my bedside clock

tell I forgot to change the hour.

This sets routines on haywire.

Like a domestic goat staked

to its circle of earth.

I don’t do well untethered.

I have no hunger for early dinner,

become confused by the sound

of children who seem out

too late for a school night.

They’ve found an extra helping

of daylight to romp on new grass

and can’t contain themselves,

strip off jackets, scatter

like a rag of ponies.

Whatever time says,

their joy insists

on springing forward.

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