Somewhere In Between
It is March in Massachusetts. A month when New Englanders anxiously anticipate the warmer season ahead. In March, brief stretches of rising temperatures are warmly received as glimpses of what we can look forward to in the months to come. A native to the area knows to take the occasional gift of sunshine with appreciation but to also accept the brevity of warmth with patience. Our calendars may mark the 20th as the first day of Spring, however Mother Nature is never quite ready to leave the chill of winter behind us on that day.
To be frank, Mother Nature is a schizophrenic bitch with a sick sense of humor to the northeast throughout the month of March. The week can start with temperatures reaching 60° one day to snowy, blizzard-like conditions the next and then back up to 50° to round out the week. The ground gets blanketed by a soft white snowfall in the morning, the snow turns to sleet during the day creating slushy walkways and muddy trails in its wake. The aftermath of the day’s precipitation freezes overnight, leaving behind blackened, icy snow drifts along the sides of the road and treacherously slippery driveways in the early morning hours. By noon, the sun will melt all evidence of the previous day’s storm away. Sounds fun, right?
The remnants of the strong coastal storms from January and February linger into March. Dried seaweed wraps around park benches from previous surges. Sea rocks thrown over the seawall are strewn across our shoreline parks. Flower beds, soon to overflow with bursts of color in summer, lay barren, empty, or covered completely for their protection. The displaced remains serve as visual reminders of the turmoil from months past and evidence of what has been overcome during the harshness of winter. By the time the calendar turns to mark the official start of Spring, the landscape of the northeast portrays a bleak, grayscale version of what it will be at its peak summertime beauty.
Tourists and visitors to Gloucester rarely see this side of my hometown. When they start arriving in a couple months, our city workers will have diligently removed the havoc caused by an angry winter sea. Discarded, broken up lobster traps, driftwood, and washed-up buoys will be picked up and hauled away. Dried seaweed will be raked and removed from our beaches and parks. The smooth rocks will return to the rocky beach below and the battered sea walls repaired. Mother Nature will regain our appreciation by doing her part to give new life to our dormant landscape. Bare tree limbs will fill in with luscious greenery of fresh leaves and blossoming buds. Our volunteer gardeners will follow Nature’s cue – returning to the flower beds, clearing away the coverings and tending to the sprouts emerging from the soil. All will result in accenting our naturally beautiful harbor with an abundance of color.
Looking around Cape Ann today, my beautiful city looks like it is in the midst of a major overhaul. We are past the anticipation of large storm fronts and the demolition they cause. However, we are not quite ready to invite guests in for the big reveal of what is one of the most beautiful coastlines in the country.
The cyclical pattern in which the seasons in nature follow are relatable to those of a household renovation. I have always marveled at how the projects here at the house start as total chaos before the vision of intention become reality. Whether reorganizing a closet or remodeling a bathroom, it all needs to be dismantled before the task at hand can actually be performed. I am not focusing on the before nor the after but somewhere in between. Even the small task of initiating the organization of a closet begins with an empty closet, a room full of crap and a whole lot of work ahead of you. Slowly you sift from one item to another, discarding what is not needed and finding a place for what is. In the end, that closet is better than it ever was. Our New England seasons are the same, perfection to disaster to an even better version of perfection.
In March, we are currently somewhere in the middle of the in between.
One step further, the seasons of life follow the same course. We all face those figuratively disastrous storms, or series of small disturbances in which we feel the effects long after the disruptive pattern concludes. These occurrences give us the opportunity to assess what displaced elements can be discarded and that worth recovering, nurturing, and given a dedicated place in our lives. We learn from past seasons how to protect ourselves and the precautions necessary to shield our weaknesses Perhaps, that means tucking them away somewhere safe or covering them up until we are certain the storm has completely passed. Only then, removing the coverings and welcoming the opportunity to thrive, confident all is clear to do so.
I haven’t written in a while. At one time, I couldn’t imagine not pumping out 2 blog posts a month (if not more). The desire to do so is still there, I did not discard it. However, I have been inexplicably hesitant to bring words to paper. Instead, I have intentionally tucked away my creative drive, waiting for the right time to bring it back. A time when I could tend to the skill and restructure the direction it takes me. I have found myself somewhere in between for a long time (stuck in the month of March if you will). My writing is my own personal flowerbed that is ready to be brought back into the sunshine. I am sure some weeds have found their way into the plot, but I am prepared to methodically remove them and bring color back to my days.
A simple act such as a morning walk on a crisp March day is all I needed to start putting the pieces back together and I can’t wait to see how that looks when I am done.
As for the weather here in Massachusetts, we have another week before April. Storms are in the forecast but nothing major. I think it is safe to assume it is time to bring out those rakes. Our guests will be arriving soon.
