Spring is limping in, bedraggled, wounded, and resistant.
As I sit here with frozen fingers, barely able to type, staring at half-meter icicles hanging from my roof, I ponder exactly how much I can take of this cold before I lose my mind. It's March 20th and yesterday was the snowstorm from hell. On top of the meter-plus snow still lying on the ground came winds blowing at Mach speed, sticking snow to my windows and blowing it through the cracks in the panes. And a fire that refused to light because of the gale, despite our desperate and dogmatic persistence. The smoke we generated left my house looking, from the outside, like it was on fire. But I can fully attest, where there is smoke, there is NOT always fire. This morning I scrubbed all the soot from my blackened face and hands, disappointed that it was not, as I had first thought, some lucky stroke of a winter tan, even though I haven't ventured out for days.
The lack of electricity has only exacerbated the drama and feels deeply like the insult added to injury - the bashing of the wound that never heals. {Please stand by while I throw some coal dust on the fire that is cooperating today}.
This week our forecast is "massive avalanches". Speaking of dramatic! Those are two words one never hopes to witness in action, but the reality is, it's entirely imaginable, possible, and probable. Sticking close to home - as cold as home is - is infinitely more attractive.
That said, it is the spring equinox, which is celebrated as Navruz in Tajikistan - literally meaning New Day, or the New Year according to the Persian calendar. Major festivities are held in each county - or Jamoat - drawing out the multitudes sporting their new spring fashions and magnificent traditional clothing. This year we hope to be soaking up the rays of a cooperative sun and will be looking for promises of a quickly arriving planting season. At this time last year, potatoes had already been planted in many areas. This year we'll be lucky to get our potatoes in by May. It has been a helluva winter!
As I sit here with frozen fingers, barely able to type, staring at half-meter icicles hanging from my roof, I ponder exactly how much I can take of this cold before I lose my mind. It's March 20th and yesterday was the snowstorm from hell. On top of the meter-plus snow still lying on the ground came winds blowing at Mach speed, sticking snow to my windows and blowing it through the cracks in the panes. And a fire that refused to light because of the gale, despite our desperate and dogmatic persistence. The smoke we generated left my house looking, from the outside, like it was on fire. But I can fully attest, where there is smoke, there is NOT always fire. This morning I scrubbed all the soot from my blackened face and hands, disappointed that it was not, as I had first thought, some lucky stroke of a winter tan, even though I haven't ventured out for days.The lack of electricity has only exacerbated the drama and feels deeply like the insult added to injury - the bashing of the wound that never heals. {Please stand by while I throw some coal dust on the fire that is cooperating today}.
This week our forecast is "massive avalanches". Speaking of dramatic! Those are two words one never hopes to witness in action, but the reality is, it's entirely imaginable, possible, and probable. Sticking close to home - as cold as home is - is infinitely more attractive.
That said, it is the spring equinox, which is celebrated as Navruz in Tajikistan - literally meaning New Day, or the New Year according to the Persian calendar. Major festivities are held in each county - or Jamoat - drawing out the multitudes sporting their new spring fashions and magnificent traditional clothing. This year we hope to be soaking up the rays of a cooperative sun and will be looking for promises of a quickly arriving planting season. At this time last year, potatoes had already been planted in many areas. This year we'll be lucky to get our potatoes in by May. It has been a helluva winter!
Hang in there Dearest Jan Jan!!! SOON the warmth of spring will blossom !
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