Noticed the other day that I wasn’t rushing down the hill towards the subway on the way home after work. My head wasn’t down, defending against pelting rain, snow, or that god-awful Montreal wind. I was looking up, walking slowly, breathing in the air, planning this year’s balcony garden in my head. I was even smiling. I didn’t even realize how rare this is until it actually happened. Spring.
Then, a week of rain. A whole week. Not exaggerating here. I think, to live in northern climates, people need to build up a whole lot of inner reinforcements against the bad things that can come from enduring months of cold winter. Outdoor exercise like skiing and skating help, and an appreciation for those days of doing “indoor” activities: watching movies, reading books, taking all Sunday to make a delicious stew.
See, this is what happened this week: we finally made it through a rainy/snowy April that only contained a few hints of spring to come. A little warmth here, a little sun there. And the month of May, it came in bright and shiny. I planted my garden. And then it rained for the next 7 days. And not warm humid rain, mind you. Cold rain, with a hurricane breeze to match. It felt like winter. And I had already cast off all my winter inner reinforcements when I tilled the soil for this year’s balcony garden. Oh, the misery!
And now, the sun has unexpectedly forced its way through those clouds. I have frantically grabbed up the laptop, the phone, the journal, a glass of water, the cat, and made myself comfortable for a whole afternoon of working on the front balcony. Surrounded by the new porch garden I hadn’t even had the chance of enjoying yet, and it’s been planted a week. It’s warm enough for bare feet, and my happy little toes are basking in the breeze running through them. And now, the possibilities of the future are bright again. Now, I’ve rediscovered optimism.
And I wonder, why are moods so dependent on the weather?
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