...though I'm a Siberian winter storm at heart. Just as Shakespeare's Benedick complains that Claudio no longer wants to hear "the drum and the fife", but would rather hear "the tabour and pipe" because he is in love, so would I rather hear the blustery winds of autumn and the concaving crunch of snow underfoot than hear the cooing of birds in blossoming trees or the flip flop of people wearing flip-flops again - the heralds of Spring. I can't help it. I love the austerity of Winter and the hearth-warming homecoming feel of Fall. Maybe it's my Minnesota roots or the fact that San Diego had no real seasons, but I've never been excited about Spring, and I know this makes me an outsider. 
So, in an effort to be a little less moribund in my tastes, here's one of my favorite poems, and I dedicate it to Seth who has forever linked this in my memory to images of him dancing in a green sweater vest for paying audiences. My love to all you crazy spring lovers...
A Contemporary
What if I came down now out of these
solid dark clouds that build up
against the mountain day after day with no rain in them
and lived as one blade of grass
in a garden in the south
when the clouds part in winter
from the beginning I would be
older than all the animals
and to the last I would be simpler
frost would design me and
dew would disappear on me
sun would shine through me
I would be green with white roots
feel worms touch my feet as a bounty
have no name and no fear
turn naturally to the light
know how to spend the day and night
climbing out of myself
all my life
-W.S. Merwin
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