Lots of people are either saying it or thinking it this week as our town refuses to acknowledge spring. Yesterday I actually heard someone say, “Fredonia is the worst place ever.” [notice the absolute phrases used in that sentence].
It’s also possible that 35-degrees is the perfect temperature for the first week of April. Perfect for the birds that just arrived. Perfect for the trees. Perfect for the soil. Perfect for the atmosphere. It’s possible that the forces controlling nature don’t give a damn about your preferences.
It doesn’t take a tsunami to understand that nature doesn’t care about you at all. Insisting that it ought to is a recipe for perpetual dissatisfaction.
There’s a certain vitality that comes from knowing this.