3.14.2015

Early Spring is When I Hate Winter the Most

I cannot deny it. I am not a winter person. I love heat. I love being outside with as few clothes on as possible. I like riding my bike on sunny warm days.

I hate winter the most just after it is over, in early spring, when we get the first hints of warmth and life returning to Wisconsin.

November and December are tolerable. The really cold weather hasn't hit yet and the holidays keep me entertained and active, socializing, making food, and playing shows with my band for holiday events between Halloween and New Years. But then the holidays end...

January is only half bad. My birthday is in early January. The afterglow of the holidays carries me a couple of weeks into January, but then it gets much colder. Intolerably cold. The oppressiveness of winter starts to sink in as I realize I still have to suffer through February, the only respite from which is February Album Writing Month (FAWM), a song writing challenge that keeps me in my warm basement music studio writing songs to escape having to go outside.

By the end of February, the coldest month in Wisconsin, winter has been going on for so long that I just start to accept it in a kind of learned helplessness, almost even embracing the brutality of the cold, snow, and ice. I rationalize that shoveling snow is a workout and I am burning calories. Yea!

Then March arrives and brings a few teasing warm days. The hope that has almost faded from my heart of ever experiencing warmth again gets rekindled in the sun on those clear days in mid-March that get up into the 50s and 60s. I get outside and bike commute to work, sometimes even in shorts. I grill steaks on my back patio, even though the grill is still partly buried in a melting snow bank. I can stay outside for more than five minutes with no discomfort.

It's then that my hatred for winter and the cold rushes back, obliterating the complacent acceptance of winter I had felt in January and February. Spring will come again and I am filled with absolute glee at this realization.

I hate you winter and I can't wait until you are gone. I know you are going to linger a while and this short visit from spring is transient. But soon you won't be able to fight the warmth and sun anymore, and you'll be gone for at least six months. Six months when I will not miss you. I will rarely even think of you, except with angst and resentment.

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