I noticed the seasons shifting a couple of years ago, when October started to stay in the 60s and my birthday, at the end of April, was no longer guaranteed to be warm. When was the last time March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb? May has taken that over; April if we’re lucky.
It’s not that climate change has been a secret, but the last few years have been the first times I’ve noticed not just the changes in weather–polar vortex, unseasonable warmness, tornadoes in Queens, what have you–but also the shift toward those interstitial months lagging behind the seasons I associate them with (Granted, they are now more in line with the solstices and equinoxes…November actually still feels like autumn and March like winter).
At the same time, seasonal displays in stores have inched their way even farther forward, in the opposite direction of the weather–Valentine’s Day cards for sale in early January, back to school in July, Christmas decorations put on as Halloween costumes are taken off…the image that leaps to mind is of the year as a pepper grinder someone is twisting, wringing it out.
(I titled this post before I wrote that paragraph and realized…but I’m just going to leave it there)
I read plenty about life changes and milestones shifting later and later, and I think of that as I think about the seasons…but when those are delayed, they aren’t pushing something else back to the beginning. The seasons are on a strange conveyor belt.
