A bit over a week ago those backyard Iffley snowdrops, true harbingers of the next seasonal phase so eagerly anticipated by so many in the annual go-around of the New England seasons – of which the cold dark phase is by far the longest (which is odd considering that winter is assigned the same # of days as its three counterparts) – had broken free of their underworld beginnings and were ready to run wild in the sunshine, right into the calendar’s affirmation that it is spring at last, spring at last, praise the lord, spring at last! Well, as of last Friday yet another polar kink in the wild and crazy new-normal jetstream put an end to any such jubilation, and the delicate little green/white darlings were unceremoniously buried by yet another 12-hour slow motion burial that kept them true to their namesake once again. At least Boston can now claim another above-normal seasonal snowfall, which of course makes it all most acceptable and wonderful and we folks here love our “real” winters and not these fluky cold seasons like they have in Texas and points south, I don’t care if theirs now tend to be more catastrophic and downright strange.
So here we see snowdrops breaking through the snow, on their way one must hope towards finally fulfilling their namesake destiny and giving us their white blooms any day or week now, if all goes according to plan. Of course this has already happened in more temperate climes where winter is not quite as endless as it always seems on Iffley Rd come March, which by the way is not “the cruelest month” according to Tommy Eliot, the great poet, nope that’s April go figure (or read the Waste Land and see if that helps, which it probably won’t). And of course the viewer is also directed towards that other odd revelation of the melting snow cover, here, whereby said viewer is expected to experience some sort of confusion or surprise and hopefully is tantalized by the mystery of it all. You feeling tantalized, punk? Or is that strange ebony profile suggestive of something with which you might be familiar? Here’s a hint: it has as much to do with the coming of spring as anything botanical you might care to name, and ultimately is equally as celebratory, at least for some of us. John
