Cold Snap Coming
A cold snap is coming. March arrived unsure whether it was a lion or a lamb. The weather waffled. It was hard to judge how things would play out.
Not to trivialize T.S. Eliot, who wrote this line in his epic poem, The Waste Land — wrote it for his friend Ezra Pound in Book I, called “The Burial of the Dead”— but no wonder others have recognized that “April is the cruellest month.”
The days approaching the end of March and celebrating the start of spring were, without a doubt, lambish. It was hot enough to open the bedroom windows overnight. Some people do this all the time, even on winter nights, and especially during summer. With my allergies, not to mention certain critters that take advantage of our unintended invitation to our living quarters, we normally leave the windows shut.
The month isn’t quite finished. Forecasters say the lion will prowl around for a few days. Slide the windows down. Certainly they’ll stay shut over the weekend.
Temperatures will dip well below freezing.
How will it impact what has sprung to life? Eastern-tailed Blue butterflies have taken a keen interest in the weed petals that match their cobalt wings, as well as slightly larger ones that match the daffodils. What does the Eastern-tailed Blue do during a hard freeze? Will its numbers decline as a result of the cold snap? I haven’t counted them so I can’t compare before and after, but I wish the butterflies luck.
As for carpenter ants, jar lids filled with sugar water and Borax convinced them to stay out of our kitchen. Lone rangers still explore the living room hardwood floor. Until I dispatched him a moment ago, one of them was crawling on the arm of my chair. With their 
foreknowledge of the cold snap, will they march through the door to get warm?
Regardless of the weather, birds sing in spring. They have the money to head south for the weekend but most slip into February’s fluffy coat and pursue their agenda, that is, their girlfriend. To slow down their sex drive, a cold snap would have to be severe. After all, spring is the mating season. Ask any teenager.
Pansies in our hanging basket may shudder or shrivel but will revive. Those not yet transplanted can spend the weekend inside. Whether the weather will faze the narcissus blooms is yet unknown. I’ve seen daffodils stand up to past storms.
Nature mocks our desire to cling to spring.
The cold snap can strip blossom-covered trees to their wintertime apparel. So Paula captured a bouquet of ornamental blossoms from the neighbor’s yard for the large vase on our stair landing. Until they’re inside our house, I forget to notice how much those blossoms smell like old rubber tires.
