Spring is here! At least in the same perverse way that the pandemic is over, spring is here not so much in reality as in my own confidence in its imminent inevitability. We are well into March this week, the taps are on the maple trees, and no global war has yet thrust us into a nuclear winter and so spring is a certainty for the near future. Or so I believe.
I was going to write an email to somebody sometime today. In actual reality even we deepest of introverts yearn toward a rare and tenuous connection when we discover ourselves in a moment of meteorological or epidemiological isolation. That intention failed temporarily as I found myself thinking in Fahrenheit. This morning we were at zero.
Had I been contemplating in Celsius I would have been engaging 18 very negative ideas. Had I been cogitating in Kelvin my mental productivity would have been prodigious (although a large portion might perhaps be thermodynamically congealed).
One could expect that in the March of Days or the days of March ideas would awken and range more freely through the vernal enlightening but expectation is an expression of a statistical reality, a probability, a universal mean. This early morning was a singular moment against the actual reality of which all expectations crash.