The first day of spring arrived and with the help of a little wind, brought us a spring-welcoming temperature feeling very much like -26C. I am writing to you from Montreal, Canada; the most European-feeling city in North America. That is, except for the issue of the weather. Many friends and colleagues in Budapest are sending me pictures of trees in bloom, tulips and daffodils. I am not sure if they are trying to rub salt in my weather wound but if they are, they need not; there is enough salt sprinkled on Montreal streets to handle the wounds of the entire Montreal population. Times two.
With the coming of Spring, we look forward to Easter, a time of re-birth, renewal and rejuvenation. Many people all across the world look forward to Easter flowers. In Montreal, the sign of spring is the lost gloves sprouting from the oh-so slowly melting snow. Brown, black, grey and always grimly, they begin to emerge one digit at a time, finally emerging in full dismal bloom.
In many Christian parts of the world, church attendance at Easter is high and people are decked out in their new, spring-best outfits designed in pastels colours; soft and welcoming after a couple of months of grey and drab, long shadows by mid afternoon and darkness well before dinner.
Easter apparel in Montreal is different. Thermal underwear and earmuffs being the norm with many donning but one glove. It is uncertain if church-goers in Montreal attend church at Easter to worship or to seek warm shelter from the elements.
There are several sub-seasons to spring here. There is early spring which bears an uncanny resemblance to winter followed by the sub-set know as ‘black fly season” which lasts only a couple of weeks in May. Those can be a painful couple of weeks if you happen to go outdoors, which most people do. Cabin fever will do that, black fly season be damned. Once outdoors, a person may encounter swarms of black flies. Unlike mosquitos, which stick a probe into your skin to withdraw blood, the black fly is little more than a flying set of teeth that rip a piece of your flesh when they bite. Mosquito bites itch. Black fly bites hurt. Horse fly bites really hurt but that is a mother story. A summer story. To every season, there is an insect.
As I write this, Easter Sunday is but four days away. It snowed yesterday. Not much. But at this time of year every little bit hurts. Sometimes in spring, I watch a snowfall and attempt to conjure up the warm feelings I have for such snowfalls at Christmas. It just doesn’t work. While Christmas wants white snow, Easter wants white lilies.
What we have are brown, grey and black gloves littering city sidewalk gutters. They are now coming into bloom despite the remnant, persistent snow fall. I look at these gloves and wonder which gloved finger I would use to bid winter a fond farewell?
Happy Easter.
Three Years on Mars 