Winter is Over

Today is Groundhog's Day and everyone probably knows by now that Phil predicts an early spring. Marshmallow Man doesn't get the tradition, and I agree that it's a silly one. Technically, spring comes at the same time every year with the Vernal Equinox. Groundhog's Day is actually a significant day in the astronomical calendar, a day that is midway between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox: a cross-quarter day. There have been other celebrations on this day, such as the feast-day of St. Brigid, or Imbolc.

To me, it doesn't matter what you celebrate. What's important is acknowledging the passage of time and respecting the seasons. A lot of people are cursing one particular season right now and wishing they lived someplace tropical, but I love living in a place with clearly defined and sometimes extreme seasons. (OK, I hate summer, but it makes autumn that much sweeter to live through the unbearable heat.) How boring would it be to live in the same weather all of the time? Maybe this modern world we live in has made it easy not to appreciate the different times of year for what they bring us. If you can buy lettuce and tomatoes in the local grocery any day of the year, you may not crave the fresh vegetables that come with spring. If you can walk into an air-conditioned home whenever you feel hot, you may not long for the crisp autumn air. If you are disconnected from the growing seasons, then a Thanksgiving meal may not be a poignant. Fattening up for winter isn't really applicable anymore, nor is a harvest festival. We are annoyed by the snowfall because we all still have to go to work and school and the grocery, instead of hunkering down for the long winter nap because we worked our butts off in the long summer hours already. The incredible wonder of those first falling snowflakes that make our children squeal with delight is lost on too many of us as we think about scraping our windshields. But I still delight in those snowflakes, and take every opportunity I can to sled, or throw snowballs, or just gaze into the beautiful white all around me. I love the winter, and but still long for spring and seeing the buds appear. I stay up late in the summer and use the long daylight hours to be outside and eat real tomatoes that only ripen in the July heat. I tromp through leaves in the autumn and marvel at the colors and the need for a sweater. The seasons are life, and nothing tugs at my emotions like experiencing them as they come.

This morning I was sad when I awoke, because to me, winter is officially over, and yet it is still too early to look forward to spring. And it had nothing to do with Phil. Today there was no liberal leave at work. I felt in my gut, with no groundhog to guide me, that there would be no more snow days this year.