The Paddingtonian

I have a complicated relationship with the season of spring. I’m not completely immune to its charms — every year I get swept away by the intoxicating shift in energy and the excitement of walking out the door without a jacket. But as the days begin to lengthen, so do my commitments. It’s as if my do-list takes its cue from mother nature to break ground and suddenly expand.

If winter is a permission slip to stay indoors, spring has a habit of catapulting me and my pale skin headfirst towards the sleeveless, sunny, silly season. Which is a problem, because mentally, I’m still lingering around in April. Spring is like the calendar alert that pops up to remind you of all those things that you were meant to do with the year, but without the same luxury of time. 

Recently, as I was sitting on my yoga mat waiting for a class to begin and listening to the conversations around me, I realised that a lot of people are reluctant to leave hibernation. And it made me wonder why this transition into the end of the year feels more relentless than joyful? 

Perhaps, it’s a question of positioning. I was in New York during their spring this year and the feeling of possibility was tangible. There were green buds in Central Park and conversations about long summer vacation plans were sprouting all over the city. For us in the Southern Hemisphere, the shift to warmer weather coincides with work parties, festive gatherings, project deadlines and school holidays. 

This time of year can feel like a ramp-up rather than a much-needed slowdown. We’re more likely to be pushing a trolley around a shopping centre than sipping margaritas on a beach. (Although late-night Christmas shopping at Bondi Junction Westfield with a complimentary margarita might not be such a bad idea.)

But I’m jumping ahead myself. It’s only September and already I’m mentally preparing lists for the months ahead. And maybe this is the problem with spring. We have a habit of skipping over it in our rush to the finish line. 

So, what if we choose to reclaim it, take our antihistamines and stop to smell the roses. I mean, surely all those poets who’ve waxed lyrical about the season can’t be wrong? Perhaps the best remedy for spring fever is to give it the attention it deserves.