Vernal Equinox

March 25, 2019

Greetings from a livelier iris,

I am feeling slightly off kilter, in part because of a real physical change in the world.

Let me pause here and point out that no one in the history of words has used the ‘kilter’ to describe when things are exactly in order, only when things are ‘out of kilter’.  You have never said ‘I am feeling perfectly on kilter.’  Now I can’t stop saying ‘kilter’ without thinking of a more extreme version of a kilt. 

While the people of the world worried about Brexit and Mueller, (real news items, not Las Vegas magicians) other events were taking place with more significance to us.  Meaning me. 

The earth moved into a position in its lap around this end of the solar system to where the sun shone evenly to the north and south of the equator giving us approximately equal parts day and night.  This event is called the ‘Vernal Equinox’.

Vernal equinox seems so formal, and kind of dramatic like ‘Hail, the Vernal Equinox!  Release the Kraken!’  And so most normal people (still meaning me) call it Spring.  But Spring almost is too casual, as if the season went ‘Boinggg! And then flowers were suddenly thrust up through the soil and every young man’s fancy turned to love.

For other people (not meaning me) the Vernal Equinox can pass without comment, unless they are reading their horoscope and happen to notice. ‘Today will be a good day to explore your timid side; the stars suggest you cancel your Enquirer subscription.  Also there will be equal parts day and night; prepare for a brighter future.  Also, release the Kraken!’

For those of you who belong to the Flat Earth Society, and are likely having someone read this to you, you may want to consult your Ouija board or the back of your Cap’n Crunch cereal box for a more sensible explanation of all this.  Oh, and also: the world is not flat.

In days gone by the equinox was more significant because it marked a victory over nature; we didn’t freeze to death or run out of food and be forced to cannibalism.  Many primitive cultures celebrated this victory with human sacrifice, which could be the source of all irony.  Thankfully we rarely hear of such goings on today (human sacrifice, not irony). 

But enough of context, you have all read this far to learn what this means to me.

Spring makes me antsy, I am feeling an energy in me that will not be contained by conventional means.   Sometimes I must be shushed because I will speak out loud in libraries or sing the wrong lyrics to my favorite songs while waiting in line for coffee and people will turn and look at me like I need to be sent outside in shorts for a while.

As loyal readers know, (and you both are appreciated) I am a summer animal.  I was made for the warmth and light and greenness and the smells and feels of that season.  Where I live the order of seasons is as follows; Fall, winter, another winter, winter thaw, midwinter, wintergreen, winterish, wintering, winterism, wintermadness, false spring, winter redux, and then he Vernal Equinox, which is a harbinger of Summer.

(If you have been using the word ‘harbinger’ instead of ‘humdinger’, you are probably a member of the Flat Earth Society, and so that season which portends of summer will make little or no sense.  And you are probably using ‘portends’ instead of ‘pretends’.  Really, just stop here.)

Spring is technically here, which means Summer is not far off.  Somewhere in me something has already clicked over, an internal mercury bubble that has tilted me into the launch sequence.  The weather says it’s not time, but my body is already humming a Summer tune.

Our planet’s axis is slightly off kilter so that as Earth spins and also orbits the sun it creates a variety of results on the globe’s surface which we have described as our seasons.  I don’t know what would have to change in our kilter for it to be summer all the time, and I am not meant to know.  It is mainly my purpose to use the word ‘kilter’ as often as I can today.

Normal people (this time not referring to me) will wait for summer to arrive and be content with that timing.  It’s nature, cannot be hurried.  Whatever it is in me that is Summer does not recognize this sensibility.  It says, “The hell with sensible.”

I am leaning forward.  It is the harbinger of my momentum.  Once I tip past a certain point my feet carry me to the next step and the next.  In my world, the crazy one you are visiting, that leads into this day and the next, each step, running now, toward the mornings that begin earlier and dusks that linger longer.  The days of Spring will give way to fireflies and dew and the smell of rain, and that one drop of sweat that makes its way down your back as you drink from the garden hose.  It will be Summer and I will be perfectly on kilter.

Hope this finds you warming,

David

Copyright © 2019 David Smith