Image courtesy of Dean Ward. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.
This unceasing shitshow of a winter is finally, finally over. Y’all, I knew going into this year that it was going to be the Worst, but my issues managed to dovetail quite nicely with a winter that just Would Not Quit. It was like the MRSA of weather, teasing us with the potential of spring every Saturday only to be cold and grey and miserable the rest of the week. And it went on like a freshman comp student who doesn’t understand that maximum page limits exist for a reason.
Spring has sprung, and my fellow residents of the Ent city are ecstatic. Piedmont Park is full of families with lawn chairs and picnic baskets, Grant Park has bikers on their way to the farmer’s market, everyone’s patios are finally opened and I can only imagine that no one in Cabbagetown will leave their porches for the next three months. Driving through Midtown today, I saw two cute young dudes (one in a belly shirt and skinny jeans, the other sporting a v-neck and shorts) recognize each other from across the street—one ran and no-shit leapt into the others arms, and he carried the dude into Blake’s.
Even I can feel my usual background existential dread easing up a bit. Sure, I may still have an OKCupid profile full of coworkers, co-volunteers, and guys I went to middle school with, but their profiles have taken on a rose-colored hue that they lacked in the cold grey of the 5 months. There is a pleasant, if doomed, hint of possibility, and the comforting knowledge that when/if any of that goes south, I can retreat to one of the many overflowing garden centers around town to buy some flowers for my yard to indicate that I’m Really Trying with regards to living my most Pinteresting life.
I hope that doesn’t read as sarcastic. It’s not. I am so, so excited to make my annual attempt at becoming a bike person, to make eyes at dudes with beards and skinny jeans while buying my spinach, to hang up fairy lights on the porch (!) of the place that I’m moving to this month. Last week? I workshopped an all-ladies improv thing on an outdoor stage and a land trust with an amphitheater and an emu.
Atlanta spring is glorious. Soon there will be cicadas and camping and outdoor concerts and movies and excuses to sit on patios and drink sangria while smiling benevolently at babies.
I have felt lonely and sad and small since moving to Midtown and going through the winter that Just Wouldn’t Quit, and I’m leaving to go live with people and enjoy the spring and the trees. It’s early enough that even the pollen has its own limited charm.
(This will go away once the pollen clouds start rolling through. In case, non-Atlantans, you think I’m kidding, I’m not. Atlanta will give you allergies.)
Spring has sprung, and I hope it’ll stick around as long as winter did.