Spring is napping off in other parts.
I am watching small flakes of snow drifting slowly down past my living room window. The smell of carrot bread baking in the oven warms the apartment.
The children are playing on the floor. Lunch is over. Dishes are done.
I am sipping my hot coffee as I type this. It is needed to keep me going throughout the rest of the day. Last night, I coughed myself awake for the fourth night. I am tired.
There are no sick days for stay at home mothers.
Yesterday was a long, long day. Dark with winter cold.
My heart is singing spring while my body brushes Winter’s cold hands away.
I am not alone.
Yesterday, at the bus stop a mother’s face was not happy when she announced that she was sick of winter weather when it is Spring. Her son ran in front of her full of energy almost jumping into the school bus. He loves snow.
As she came up to our small group of parents stomping the cold out of our feet, she gave me knowing advice. She told me that I shouldn’t bother to pack away the kids snow pants because they are needed all year round here in the Jura. Everyone stood in agreement. Winter is long in our mountains.
While I know that she was teasing about it snowing all year long in the Jura, I do know that the weather is mild here.
We moved to Switzerland at the start of summer last year. All summer the weather was cool. Of course, there were a few days that we could wear shorts and tank tops but honestly it was still safe to wear long pants with a tee shirt. It is never really summer here as I knew it in Ohio or Strasbourg.
I remember a day in the nineties on the tram in Strasbourg. Each person’s body odor was fighting to dominate the others. I had to hold my breath at a point in order not to be ill. Deodorant was no match for the glaring sun minus adequate air conditioning.
Not once did we even come close to a day like that since moving to the Jura.
Summers are perfect here in the mountains. It is warm but not too hot.
So, I am happy to entertain Winter as a guest for a bit longer knowing that when Spring does arrive here in the Jura she will be well rested and gentle in her manners. Summer will come in no hurry and warm our bones just long enough so that we don’t forget her. Then, our good friend Winter will come and park himself at our door making us step over him each time we go out.
I asked Winter politely to move aside so I can come and go as I please. However, winter refused to leave until he is good and ready.
So goes the cycle of life in the Jura.