Battle of the Seasons

I am obsessed with weather. Our children attend a wonderful little Waldorf school that is just down the road from us, close enough that on the warm days we’ll ride our bicycles to school. Waldorf education, and Gregg the Kindergarten teacher in particular, uses stories to spark imagination of the children and to engage their learning. Having two little ones of our own I see everyday the difference between what happens when you try to “tell” them something and if you tell them a story and let them figure it out for themselves.

One of my favorite stories involve the various characters of the seasons. We have the mighty King Winter, who builds palaces out of ice and snow, he freezes our pond and we’ve recently decided he must be responsible for the frost heaves that crack the road. Then there is his trusty sidekick Jack Frost, who is always leaving fun designs on our windows. And perhaps my favorite is Mrs. Thaw. She’s always thwarting the efforts of Jack Frost, and she can certainly make a muddy mess when she really gets going, but really she’s Queen Spring’s cleaning help and when she gets things all cleaned up Spring really is a joyful time.

This week felt like a battle. We started with seasonal Mrs. Thaw weather, mud and cold wet fingers, then it felt like King Winter came charging in on his chariot, Jack Frost frolicking behind him. We woke up on thursday morning to 25 degrees and enough snow to do some sledding. And then Mrs. Thaw came back with a bluster and good gusts wind, melted all the snow and we had 55 degrees and sunny to welcome the second batch of chicks to the field on Friday.

I’ll admit that I too have fallen in love with these characters. Part of my mind rejects the idea of faces riding the wind and real people controlling the weather. But on the other hand what else are these forces than characters in our mind? We can no more control the mud and the snow than we can the whims of our children! And so it brings me comfort and relief to imagine Mrs. Thaw with her broom and mud boots, vigorously swiping about, making ready for the arrival of spring. The wind blows things around, that bucket takes off across the field and I can smile and wag my finger up at Mrs. Thaw: I know she means well.

Happy Spring.