UNDER THE WEATHER

If I were to point at one force ruling the world, it’d be the weather. Recent days have once again proved that she’s alive and kicking. I myself have been kicked hard several times already. Some would probably say: "poked", but to my mind, that’s not enough said.

In winter no driver can feel safe, especially one like me: a false beginner in her first year and first wheels. That's no discovery. I do have winter tyres, a few defrosters and some experience. But what I also have is no sense of space around the car, a moody gearbox and no idea what to do in times of crisis. And this, you must admit, counts as a worthy discovery. Yet, since I refuse to feel guilty of my misfortune or admit the limitations, I see no other way but blame it all on the weather. This unruly fool seems to take pleasure in doing mischief. And she doesn’t just go for random, occasional victims, but aims at doom and disaster of all mankind. 

This will teach you, she seems to be saying, but have ever asked yourselves the question: “teach us what”? Well, it's a reminder that we should take her seriously rather than ignore the powers she obviously has or even try to dethrone her by dispersing clouds with planes and the like. No amount of sand or salt can  magic away her majesty the ice queen. No wood or coal can give out enough warmth to melt the heart beating under her snow-white coat. No spell or prayer will do. None of the weather's doings can even be predicted with a comforting degree of accuracy. Well done, wouldn’t you say? I’m impressed. And respectful. Regardless of some of the foregoing, which might easily serve as evidence to the contrary.

Winter seasons are no power plays, they're corrective periods. The weather demands respect and disciplines both the reckless and the rebellious. All that without a fair trial and the benefit of the doubt? Yeah well. With a little bit of twisted reason, one might even say it’s a kind of natural selection. A right only mother nature has a monopoly on. And she sure is exercising this right.

What can be done, then, apart from just being obedient? Well, it seems to me that certain creatures have found one good way after all. It seems worth trying to go to sleep and wait until raging mother nature quenches her hunger with a satisfactory number of brats. The moment she finally does... has a name. Spring it is. There will be much rejoicing on my part when it arrives this time. More than usual. Well, if I'm lucky enough to actually see it coming.