End of the season
Does anyone else feel slightly sad at the passing of winter into spring? I know I should be overjoyed at the lighter evenings and warming sunshine but there is a sense of loss too, after the dark, candle-filled winter nights when there was every excuse to stay at home and not go out.
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb is the old weather lore. I don’t know if it’s true. It took root in the 19th century when it was used to predict the month’s weather. So, if the start of the month was stormy, it would ease off later and the end of the month would be milder and balmier. Whatever the weather, the first of March certainly feels different. By now the hours of daylight are nearly equal to the hours of darkness and from 1st to when the clocks change, sunrise gets earlier by a whole hour and sunset is delayed by up to fifty minutes and those times when we lit the fires or switched on the lights in the late afternoon, creating that cosy hibernating feel on mid-winter are a distant memory.
But there is something else too and that is many people report finding rejuvenated energy at this time. Is it linked to our ancestors coming out of winter torpor and needing to feed and find a mate? Is that why so many DIY centres report a huge surge of visitors as we tidy our caves, freshen up our plots of land and plant for the coming seasons? Who knows for sure? But with each passing day many sense a new feeling of anticipation.
How does this fit with writing? Well, is anyone else exhilarated after publication date and the launch event only to feel a sense of let-down later? I know I do. It’s when I realise, I need to get on with another project or seek out a forgotten manuscript and read it again. Who knows what I might find?
Endings can often be difficult. We miss the familiarity, the predictability of what has gone before and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. But perhaps we can channel our inner cave dweller and rejoice at the prospect of a new season, knowing that in the endless circle of life, that too will pass, and we’ll be moaning about winter again before long.
