There’s something about growing up in the long winters of the north that makes the first day of spring seem like a huge annual accomplishment. As if surviving the hell of a season with its snow and ice is enough to warrant as much frisbee playing, hiking and day drinking as one can physically withstand in an afternoon.
Now that I live in the realest state of the South, its sometimes feels like we have twenty first days of Spring. Today is January 21st, and though my brain knows we’re nowhere near the end of winter my inner Ohioan feels the afternoon high of 69 degrees Fahrenheit and just wants to roll down the windows and blast some mid-2000s synth-y hipster jams. But I can’t just take a walk with that syrupy sweetness on an above average day in January.
So what do you do when it’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe that maybe this January will be warmer than the last? What should you listen to when you know the heat is a lie? You want to switch on everyone’s old friend Sheryl and go soak up the sun, but that may be a little too much too soon.
It may make sound like a loser, baby, but when I find myself wanting to get what I want this time of year I tend to turn to The Smiths. If anybody understands the fleeting nature of sweater weather it’s Morrissey. When you look at the forecast and think to yourself “What difference does it make?” Morrissey is there for you. When you have to spend the one nice day of the week in your office; Moz is there reminding you “You just haven’t earned it yet, baby,” because after all “These things take time.” Just go back to the old house, put on a Smiths album, stretch out and wait because that one warm day in January is just a miserable lie.
You can’t stop the spring, but you can’t start it either.