It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a place with four distinct seasons. Albuquerque came closest, I guess, with its five minutes of Spring and Fall separating its bitter, mile-high Winter and its blistering, brain-melting Summer.
Back in Detroit. Think I’ve mentioned that before. Here there are four distinct seasons. Winter, overall, is hard to forget. Cold. That, along with too long, about sums up winter in Detroit. It’s been a mild one, this my first winter back but still, anything less than 60 degrees sucks.
It’s March and I’ve been remembering March. The howling winds, the tug-of-war battle between Winter and Spring. Winter with a right cross, Spring staggering but coming back with an uppercut. 35 degrees one day, 60 the next. Back to 35 again. In like a lion, cliche as it is, pretty well describes March in Michigan. One hopes for out like a lamb but Winter ain’t over til it’s over.
I remember one March, back before I left this city 30 odd years ago. It was a brutal one, more Winter than Spring. Toward the end, though, Winter tired and began to fade. That last week of March was as lamb as lamb could be. Then, April 1st, the city woke to a massive ice storm that took down power lines, felled trees, collapsed roofs and caused the commute from hell. Winter’s parting shot. April Fools, people. I’ll be back.
