It was in the middle of February during a very shivering cold time that the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage said most dramatically, “I can’t wait for Spring. When in the world is Spring going to get here?”
As a veteran husband, I knew this was not a question for me to ponder or even to answer. Rather, it was something I needed to ignore completely. I learned these things down the years, which is why I have survived so many years. If silence is golden then I have reached those golden years of life.
I wouldn’t say this to her, but I was thinking the same thing myself. When is Spring ever going to get here?
I was counting the days when it would be Spring and we could enjoy some graciously warm weather for a change. This weather has been stinking chilly for a long time and I was getting tired of it. I could tell my wife was getting tired of it too, but I didn’t want to go in that direction with any kind of conversation. Sometimes the best thing to do is not do or say anything.
It was unusually cold here in Florida and I was tired of it. Personally, I was looking forward to Spring when things would automatically change and I could put away my sweater.
That magical day arrived. The day before my wife said, “Well, tomorrow is Spring and all this nasty, rainy, chilly weather will be over.”
If only my wife was in charge of the weather. That would be a wonderful thing because the weather would be perfect every day. At least according to her calculation.
I remember when I tried to explain to her that we needed change in the weather and we needed rain in order for crops to grow, trees to grow and so forth. After my explanation she put both hands on her hips and stared at me one of those stares that I’m so familiar with. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to.
My wife has relatives up in the state of New York. Not New York City, thankfully. One of the things she enjoys doing during the winter time is to text them and tell them how wonderfully warm and sunny it is down here. This year, however, she wasn’t able to do that.
When Spring did arrive, there was no magical change in the weather. In fact, it was the worst rainy weather we had all year. It was rainy and thundering and even in some places there were tornadoes. It didn’t look or feel like Spring.
I didn’t say anything all morning. I knew no matter what I would say it would get me in trouble. She wasn’t in the mood for any joking or jestering on my part.
She didn’t say much, but she sighed very deeply all morning long. Fortunately for me, I had work to do and so occupied myself with that work.
Isn’t it strange that man, being who he thinks he is has no control of the weather? It rains when it rains and it snows when it snows and there’s not a thing man can do about it.
The weatherman is a very strange individual. It doesn’t matter if he gets the whether right or wrong, he still has a job. Nobody thinks badly of him because he miscalculated the weather.
Then my wife made a very interesting comment, “Why can’t Mother Nature keep to the schedule at hand. Spring is supposed to be nice weather.”
It was a good point. We have a date for Spring and Mother Nature should keep that date. We have all year long for rain and tornadoes and lightning and thundering why can’t she organize her schedule a little better.
I might recommend that my wife take over the duties of Mother Nature. If anybody can organize anything, it’s her. Well, she hasn’t quite organized me, but that’s a different story. But she can organize everything right down to the second.
If there was an opening for a new Mother Nature, I think I would recommend my wife. I’m not sure she would have much competition there, and she would win hands down. Then we would have weather organized on a very strict schedule.
Under her supervision, we would have rain when it’s scheduled and snow when it’s scheduled. The sun would shine, without clouds, at least 90% of the time. I wanted to say 100%, but I’ll give her a little leeway in this.
Thinking about this I have come to the conclusion that there are a lot of things in this world and also in my life that I cannot control. The frustration of life is when I try to control things that I can’t control. Even though I know I can’t control everything, at least I try. And I try to my own failure.