The fickleness of spring

Spring teases us with warm sun and then slaps us with snow, but eventually, she will deliver green grass and open water.

Oh spring, how cruel a mistress you can be.

It was only yesterday when I was out on my bicycle, riding in the sunshine, and last week I stripped down to a t-shirt for a run.

Today it is snowing and overcast, the mountains obscured by both clouds and falling snow, the lake a blank white wall, no horizon in sight.

The roller coast of emotional turmoil that is spring transition is here, and all it takes is the warm sun on our faces to feel like smiling and forgetting about our troubles.

But then the clouds return and so, it sometimes seems, do our troubles.

I sometimes imagine spring is the way we are reminded we are at the mercy of our environment, and while we have managed to manufacture comfortable protection from the elements, they still hold great power over us.

Like puppets on a string, we dance when the cue is given as the sun breaks through the clouds, and alternatively sit forlorn when the sun is taken away, staring out the window as the cold and dark return to haunt us.

But the days get longer, and so we become more hopeful, remembering the beauty of summer and the feeling of sun on our bare shoulders.

Soon the snow will be gone, and soon the lake will open up and bicycles will once again be the easiest way to get across town and enjoy some sunshine.

It just feels like it’s taking forever … have faith, it will come.