Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Spring, Whither Hast Thou Sprung?

A few days ago I wrote that spring started here weeks ago, and we were looking forward to it merging with the summer. I wasn't trying to crow or in any other way lay claim to some form of vicarious superiority over those who are still wearing scarves and gloves to go out, I was just explaining how things are different here, and how we experience them. Apparently I didn't make this clear enough to the Fates, because yesterday, on the traditional first day of spring, I had the following conversation with a class of 12-year-olds:

Boy (Excitedly, looking out of window in a manner suggesting he found the novels of Walter Scott rather dull): "Mr Hickory, sir, it's snowing!"
Self (With professional scorn honed over many years): "Be quiet, you stupid boy; of course, it isn't."
Chorus of boys and girls: "Er, yes, it is, sir."

And indeed it was. Briefly, turning quickly to rain, but yesterday was as cold and miserable as mid-December in Dundee. Spring felt a long way away, and still does.


James Higham said...

Snow in spring - appropriate for a world turned on its head which rejects its Maker. Discuss.

CIngram said...

Now there you're taking me into deep waters. A friend of mine years ago (in his fifties, deeply religious) used to say that when you couldn't tell the men from the women or the summer from the winter it would mean the end of the world. Perhaps the Mayans knew something after all.

Hemingway mentions somewhere that it snowed in Madrid in August in about 1916, and it's still standing, so I wonder.