Still Winter
A long, bitter winter has a way of pushing things to their breaking point. This winter has been one of the harshest on record in the United States, sending snow and ice storms into even the normally balmy southern states. Where we live, there has been a pattern cycling between arctic temperatures and heavy snowfall and back again throughout the past three months. Every time it warms to 20 degrees or so (-7C), we get another blanket of snow before diving back toward zero (-18C) again. We have had our occasional, isolated above-freezing days when icicles grow and meltwater collects on sidewalks only to become a dangerous sheet of ice with the following cold snap. The sun beats on snowbanks by day, pushing fingers into the less hard-packed edges. Then, cold winds turn the work into a natural masterpiece like frozen surf- beautiful, but sharp and unforgiving if you fall. Water will seep into cracks and pores when it warms, straining as it freezes and the ice expands.
So things break from the strain of the changes. Things break from the weight of the snow. They turn brittle in sub-zero temperatures and icy winds, so that they break in the course of very normal use. Road surfaces are marred by potholes and ridges where upheavals were the earth's way of adjusting to the freeze/thaw/freeze cycle. Roofs leak as winter damaged shingles and ice filled gutters can't cope with the thaws. Cars hesitate to start, and more delicate parts risk breakage constantly. There are things you can repair right away, but in many cases, outdoor damages are made "good enough" and left for the growing list of spring chores. This is the case with a few of our doors, damaged to the point where they must be secured by other means until we can repair or replace them when the weather turns warmer and the snow and ice are cleared. We haven't been able to access our garage since first the big door froze shut, and then, the side door tore away from the hinges like tissue. Our temporary fix has sealed off the space until the thaw.
People, too, have been tested by this extreme winter. For younger adults and children, nothing like this has happened in their lifetime. Statistically, this kind of cold hasn't been seen here in about 30 years, and this much snow hasn't fallen in one winter for almost 40 years. There can be discontent when responsibilities force you out into the storm, but also when you're trapped inside. Hopes that rise with each slight warming are dashed with each drop. It happens over and over, wearing you down until you cease believing in the promise of spring. Relationships start to strain. Every little setback or trouble is magnified, and it takes real, conscious effort to keep from sliding down the icy slope toward depression. Things are just more fragile in the cold.
The splintered garage door is the same I painted a few years past. A lot of effort and emotion went into that painting, hours of focus and part of myself. When it's replaced, that will be gone. But another door is another opportunity to create, a blank space to fill again. It will never be the same again, but there will be a new possibility. So it goes with all of the changes winter brings. Things break, pieces slip away, but eventually spring sprouts in the cracks.
And for those who have difficulty remembering, this is what spring looks like:
So things break from the strain of the changes. Things break from the weight of the snow. They turn brittle in sub-zero temperatures and icy winds, so that they break in the course of very normal use. Road surfaces are marred by potholes and ridges where upheavals were the earth's way of adjusting to the freeze/thaw/freeze cycle. Roofs leak as winter damaged shingles and ice filled gutters can't cope with the thaws. Cars hesitate to start, and more delicate parts risk breakage constantly. There are things you can repair right away, but in many cases, outdoor damages are made "good enough" and left for the growing list of spring chores. This is the case with a few of our doors, damaged to the point where they must be secured by other means until we can repair or replace them when the weather turns warmer and the snow and ice are cleared. We haven't been able to access our garage since first the big door froze shut, and then, the side door tore away from the hinges like tissue. Our temporary fix has sealed off the space until the thaw.
People, too, have been tested by this extreme winter. For younger adults and children, nothing like this has happened in their lifetime. Statistically, this kind of cold hasn't been seen here in about 30 years, and this much snow hasn't fallen in one winter for almost 40 years. There can be discontent when responsibilities force you out into the storm, but also when you're trapped inside. Hopes that rise with each slight warming are dashed with each drop. It happens over and over, wearing you down until you cease believing in the promise of spring. Relationships start to strain. Every little setback or trouble is magnified, and it takes real, conscious effort to keep from sliding down the icy slope toward depression. Things are just more fragile in the cold.
The splintered garage door is the same I painted a few years past. A lot of effort and emotion went into that painting, hours of focus and part of myself. When it's replaced, that will be gone. But another door is another opportunity to create, a blank space to fill again. It will never be the same again, but there will be a new possibility. So it goes with all of the changes winter brings. Things break, pieces slip away, but eventually spring sprouts in the cracks.
And for those who have difficulty remembering, this is what spring looks like:
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