A Change of Seasons

Today in Chicago we expect to see temperatures above 80 degrees for the first time since October 12th last year. Ahhh, spring! Tulips have sprouted in the parkway in front of our house. Buds are opening on trees up and down the block, including the majestic maple that stands in front of our house. The day before yesterday I swept all of the branches, twigs, and dead leaves off of our porch and this evening I will fire up the Weber grill for the first time this year and cook our dinner outside.

Winter in Chicago can be a long haul. This last winter was one of the worst on record, with several record-breaking snowfalls and extremely cold temperatures. Sometimes people ask me how I can stand the bitter cold of winter, and sometimes I wonder myself as well. The answer is: spring, summer, and autumn (when we have autumn, which never really occurred last year). Spring and summer in Chicago are glorious. The lake shimmers and beckons, the sun doesn’t set until mid-evening, and there is often a pleasant breeze to check the rising temperature – often, not always.

There’s another thing about the change of seasons. It helps demarcate time. It helps me to feel as if I’m progressing in some way. Just as finishing one semester of my MFA in Writing and preparing to start the next semester provides a measure of sorts, so, too does the changing of seasons. For instance, I can vividly recall many instances and events from the summers of 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, and 1989 (to name just a few) in a way that I doubt I would be able to recall had they not been summers – set off from the other seasons of those years. Likewise, I can recall events from the autumns of 1981 and 2008 with equal recollection because they are set against the backdrop of autumn. (In the case of 2008, it was a summer-like autumn, but I recall it nonetheless and always will. Something to do with a guy named Obama, you know.)

Every now and again I’ve been seduced by the idea of living somewhere like San Diego or Sarasota. A place where it’s relatively mild year round. But when I think about it for more than a few minutes, I always come to the same conclusion: I would really miss clearly changing seasons. As much as I sometimes don’t particularly enjoy winter (snow shoveling, digging the car out of a parking space, etc.) it is also clear to me that without winter, I would likely not appreciate spring and summer and autumn as much as I do.

It’s been more than six months since we’ve had an eighty plus degree-day here in my beloved city of Chicago. When you wait that long for a beautiful summer like day, you sure appreciate it!

Namaste.