2.24.24

There’s no spring

There was never any spring

Spring’s a long gone thing

There won’t ever be a spring no more

At least that’s the way it feels

When your skin is cracked and peeled

And you’ve been livin’ under 60 pounds of blanket

And the snow’s drifting up to your window

And you’re out of firewood

And the wolf is howling at your door

It’s been a strange winter.

Temperatures are all over the place. Snow storms have been few and far between. And there hasn’t been the sort of extended cold snap that brings on a profound sense of utter hopelessness.

But it’s still winter. Like, all the baggage that goes with the season is still there, even if some of the trappings are missing. Seasonal depression, cabin fever, illness, and being just plain sick and tired of looking at the dead landscape; that’s all present and accounted for.

John Hiatt’s Wintertime Blues – from his 2005 album, Master of Disaster – perfectly encapsulates the feelings that show up this time of year. There’s a funny kind of desperation and madness in the lyrics, the sort of desperation and madness one feels when it’s in the lower 50s one day and barely above 0 the next.

I felt that today.

So did the daffodil shoots that foolishly venture out a few days ago.

Allegedly, spring will be here in a matter of weeks. I hope so. And the clocks jump ahead an hour in two weeks. That’s always good for my spirits.

I hope that wherever you are, you’re handling the ass-end of winter as well as you possibly can. This round of blues will be over soon, and we will be able to walk in the sun without heavy jackets and hats and boots.

That will be a good day.