Photos c/0 Tutti del Monte
During my first year in New York it snowed in the middle of May. As a Texas-raised, turned Southern California girl, this was traumatic. I can still shiver when I think back to that first winter of ice and endless snow, when I lived in my black puffer jacket until almost June.
This year has been a sweet relief. It’s mid-May and it’s actually warm—sometimes hot outside. In LA a cloudless 80-degree day was just another day in paradise. I was grateful for it, but it became normal. When something special becomes the norm it is easy to take it for granted.
After experiencing the brutal winters of the East Coast over the last four years I have a deeper appreciation for a beautiful day. That’s something I love about seasons: when we know something is temporary we appreciate it in a different way. I can appreciate the snowflakes because I know the heat of summer is coming, when I’ll long for that faint memory of an outdoor chill. The nostalgia of summer and celebrating the Fourth of July with BBQ and fireworks is special because it happens once a year.
In this sense, spring has become a reawakening for me. It’s a rare time of year on the East Coast, lasting sometimes only a few days or weeks. It makes me think of a scene in one of my favorites books, The Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe – when Aslan returns to Narnia and the long winter begins to melt away.
My soul is exhilarated with the arrival of cherry blossoms. Waking up to birds chirping outside of my window brings a smile on my face before I even open my eyes. I try to savor every bit of it, like a warm fresh-out-of-the-oven brownie with vanilla ice cream on top.
Sometimes I complain about the awful winter weather, just like everyone else does. And when sweat is dripping down my back in a packed subway car in mid-August, all I want is to get out of this city. But I’m learning to embrace the goodness and beauty in each season. They’re special because they’ll pass and fade into another.