Viva the Vivaldi-free four seasons: Wyn Drabble

Mark Twain was one of many writers who mused on the vagaries of weather, writes Wyn Drabble.

Opinion

Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, writer, public speaker and musician. He is based in Hawke’s Bay.

As the chill of winter increases, so, for me, does the dream of warmer climes.

Not hot, sweaty places where you can wring your shirt out by noon, just places that don’t have extremes. About 21C might be a comfortable enough temperature, but not when it is preceded by an overnight low of 3C. I’m not a fan of diurnal range.

Nor am I a fan of the repetitive task of stacking firewood, which I tend to do in rather short 20-minute bursts, followed by a lie-down and a cup of tea. Well, I’ve got to mind my back. And my hip. And my knees. Come to think of it, there’s very little of me I don’t have to mind.

Naturally enough, this got me to thinking about the pros and cons of the four seasons. I’ll try to do with words (mostly other people’s) what Vivaldi did with music (though he did publish the music with accompanying sonnets).

The pros of spring are well chronicled: “Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.” (Reginald Heber) “I want to do to you what spring does with cherry trees.” (Pablo Neruda)

But so are the cons: (a time of) sneezing, itchy eyes, and runny noses. Or Mark Twain’s summation: “In the spring I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.”

Betwixt the pros and cons sits Charles Dickens, “Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.” No wonder he has sold more books than I have!

Shakespeare hit the summer jackpot when he wrote, “Summer’s lease hath all too short a date” (a more recent wit said that summer should get a speeding ticket) and “Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines.”

A modern spokesperson for parents described it as “the time when parents realise how underpaid teachers actually are”.

But on the positive side of the ledger, it’s finally hot enough to start complaining about how hot it is.

The hallmark of autumn is, without a doubt, leaves. Leaves on the ground, leaves in the guttering, leaves in mid-air. But, ah, the colours! Is there ever such a palette?

Then there’s winter, when my favourite outdoor activity is coming back inside. Others have made pithier comments: “I don’t hate winter, I just prefer seasons where my face doesn’t hurt”, and “the season where you can gain weight and call it insulation”.

But John Steinbeck reminds us about balance: “What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?”

I wonder how I would go copying certain animals by hibernating. It would be one way of dodging those early, chilly mornings.

In 1900, a British Medical Journal story claimed a form of human hibernation existed in Pskov, Russia, but current researchers believe there is no real evidence and it’s just a story.

Besides, hibernation probably wouldn’t work for people with nut allergies.

But science has not yet unlocked all the secrets, and some researchers believe there will come a time when humans can hibernate. If it happens, it will enable exploration of more distant regions of space and, back on Earth, better medical care, such as helping people survive through trauma or serious illness. Watch this space.

Alas, for now it’s not an option.

The final word on the seasons must go to Stanley Horowitz, who manages to bring the four of them together in one quote: “Winter is an etching, spring a watercolour, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”

Now, I’ll just have to rug up and get through the etching and into the watercolour.