By Matthew Sotlar / The Jambar
Once a year on any ordinary day, usually in March or early April, I’ll be sitting, walking or just being, and I’ll say, “Oh, it’s spring.” That day has yet to come, and I’m starting to worry.
I know spring officially began on March 19. Well, I don’t care what the calendar says. If you consider this spring, then you need to return to the Siberian deep freeze, where this is acceptable spring weather.
Yes, spring has changed drastically in the years following the Industrial Revolution. I could talk about how pollution is affecting the climate, but hopefully, you should know that. Life isn’t as scenic and lovely as it was in the time of Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh. Look at their paintings and tell me I’m wrong.
It’s not that I dislike the cold weather — I could take it or leave it. It’s what people put on their music playlists that worries me. In my humble opinion, everyone should have a set music playlist for each season. Who in their right mind is listening to Journey in mid-February? Not this camper. I need something soft and relaxing to get me through the cold months.
Yet here I am, mid-March, still listening to the Eagles and the Smiths, waiting for the day I can start playing my spring and summer rock. With the way these weather patterns are looking, I may never get my Jimmy Buffett records out again.
I have a running theory that we won’t have a spring this year. One day in either May or June, the temperature will go from the 50s and 60s to the 80s out of nowhere. That’s what Ohio is known for. There can never be compromise. It’s either freezing cold or boiling hot. Goldilocks would hate it here.
So, what can you do to pass the time? I like to sit back and read or watch TV, but even that gets boring after a while. There’s no sense in going outside when the wind chill is 20 below zero, so I’ve taken to repainting all the walls in my house to watch them dry.
At least there are some days when Mother Nature gives us a reprieve from the cold. She’ll toss us a 70-degree day out of nowhere, and then the next day, it’ll be snowing. I’m getting so tired of switching out my sweaters with t-shirts every other day.
I’ve been pondering buying a scooter because I am so tired of traversing across campus only to be battered by Jack Frost. A walk from the Wick Parking Deck to Kilcawley Center feels like an arctic expedition. Last week, I swear I saw a dogsled team riding around.
To say that spring has sprung is a lie. I don’t listen to Punxatawny Phil because who trusts a groundhog’s weather prediction? That’s like taking psychological advice from a moth. To me, Groundhog’s Day is an excellent example of Americans using anything other than the metric system as a form of measurement.
“We are nearing spring.” At least that’s what my moth therapist tells me, and I trust him more than I do the groundhog. I would like to say that spring is right around the corner, but then again, another blizzard could be, too. At least now, I will learn to appreciate the warm weather — if it ever comes.
