One Month Early
Buccachio | 22 February 2007
I stepped outside this morning–my birthday, nonetheless–and discovered that springtime has apparently arrived a month early. My birthday, 22 February, is shared by George Washington and (allegedly) Frederic Chopin, both of whom were confessed melancholiacs. During their lifetimes, the much-cooler eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, warm temperatures rarely arrived before the spring equinox observed on 20/21 March, and occasionally weeks later. Perhaps the chilly shadows of wintertime drove them both to retreat into their own gloomy thoughts.
Call the modern condition global warming or simply a spike between ice ages, but decidely May-like temperatures in February have become more frequent in recent years. The pleasant consequences of this development are immediately obvious–my daffodils are already blooming, the little green leaf-buds are waking from their snowy slumber, and birds are nesting for another year of fledglings. The mountains will soon be bustling with the renewal of nature. No wonder Westerners are considered strange for recognizing dreary old 1 January as the new year. Cheers to you, and may the warmth of the sun brighten your winter-weary spirits!