Spring and David Bowie

As I begin writing this post snow showers are gently working their way across a crisp blue sky.  But it is March 20th, also known as the vernal equinox or the first day of spring.  I would venture the first, more scientific title, is more appropriate as temperatures haven’t topped 25 degrees F today and ice is still securely crunching underfoot.

At any other time in my life thus far, this would not be a source of mild irritation to me. In fact, contrary to most people,  it would have been a source of enjoyment for me. But that seems to have changed now; somewhat to my chagrin, as my love of winter has always been something that fed my soul and was an odd source of pride for me.

As with many of my other posts, I am inspired to distill my thoughts onto the page by my interactions with friends or the activities in my life, and this post is no different.  The sentiments above were very succinctly penned by my friends at Modest Plans, and though the reasoning was different (the anticipation of the gardening season for a burgeoning green thumb), the feelings could literally have been plucked straight from my brain.  And that was immensely comforting and allowed me to assess my own feelings more fairly.

My frustration stems from my new life and the joys and struggles it now encompasses.  Much to my delight and relief, my daughter does love playing in the snow and does not seem to care a bit about a slightly runny nose and cold fingers.  Yet the process we go through to engage in this outdoor time is an arduous one which often results in mother chasing daughter around the house in order to don the variety of layers needed to make said outdoor time pleasant at 20 degrees F.

The occasional March snowstorm used to draw this reaction:Photo 52and now draws this weary one: Photo 56That bothered me, and it still does…but just a little. You see, another voice of inspiration pervades my soundtrack these days and that’s Mr. Bowie and his timeless classic, Changes, which has never been more pertinent to my life than now.  And not just in my seasonal ennui.

A few short years ago (and I mean SHORT), I led  a very migratory life, in which each day was different and generously populated with friends, co-workers and new faces.  To an extent, I had the freedom to do and go where I wanted, when I wanted. I saw my close friends and family on a regular basis. I had experience and confidence in my job and even had someone cooking all my meals for me.  I am now a homeowner and moderately insecure mother, living a somewhat lonely – at least for adult interaction – life in a foreign city. Apparently, I can now add the loss (hopefully temporary) of one of my most reliable characteristics to my list of ch-ch-ch-changes.

Now please don’t get me wrong, I love my family beyond words and there is no doubt that the rewards of this new life certainly outweigh the challenges. But that doesn’t mean those challenges aren’t met with at least a little bit of consternation.  I have learned so many things already from my daughter and this new life, patience being chief among them.

And so we will wait for spring, both of us fit out in our fleece and woolies, and turn to our faraway friends and cultural tapestry to comfort and guide us until we can venture out with the chirping birds in jeans and a sweatshirt.

(Turn and face the strain)
Oh, look out you rock ‘n rollers
(Turn and face the strain)
Pretty soon you’re gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can’t trace time

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