april comes for one more may: fool's summer and its consequences
there's this pocket of time between the spring equinox and the summer solstice that elicits a warmer fool's spring. it--this fool's summer--happens every year, despite the climate changing. it's a sticky, oceanic heat that isn't riddled with mosquito symphonies or incandescent concrete. it's an in-between following the in-between of the winter solstice and spring equinox.
to me, seasons in the northwest hemisphere follow this flux, this sorta-kinda dance of temperatures that breathe with the tides. there's some version of this if you're situated between the 50th parallel north and the tropic of cancer. granted, there are variables that tilt this dance into flavors outside of this range, but locals can speak to that better than me. fool's summer is just that, though, an in-between.
what does summer evoke? the sky looking bluer than usual. a coolness on my skin. morning dew lingers. managers sort through pto requests. there's an urgency to get the most out of recess. i recall my childhood best friend breaking his arm--during recess, too; monkey bars fall--and lamenting that the warmer weather made his cast itchier. i wrote my name ("___ wuz here") with a well-loved sharpie, going over my scrawls to ensure the ink will be remembered.
what does fool's summer evoke? thunderstorm warnings. email reminders for fiscal quarter number 2. standardized testing you think won't happen this year if you ignore it enough, casting a spell of unacknowledgement through furrowed squints, but this intention is self-fulfilling. you'll be filling in scantrons with number 2 pencils soon enough. same as it ever was.
that's the thing, it feels like the same as it ever was. a déjà vu. you've been here before. you miss a step and catch yourself before tumbling down stairs, and a coolness outlines your skin--disembodied chalk outline. a sequence of words you've said before finds its way back into your stream of speaking without a prompt or recollection; it just happens. time bends for this lapsed blend of hope and folly. to be in between an in-between presents ennui on a platter.
what is it about this pseudo-axial tilt into a season of lazy repose that brings about such momentum in listlessness? it's a cusp, a quasi-season of conclusions (graduations, cashing in vacation time as a 2 weeks notice), but it's tapering off from a season of momentum that followed a season of contemplation. i suppose that's what makes a solstice so distinct, this gravity of beginnings and endings leading to such ruts. it makes the getting-out a sisyphean trek.
and so, april comes for one more may. i meet my shadow's gaze in high noon and ask, "where will you go from here?"