Last winter was cold. And if I hadn’t been on this planet for more than five decades, I might have said something like “How unusual!”. However, I can vividly recall those winters here, in Hungary, when we had to jump into our warmest clothes and thickest boots to avoid frostbite. Okay, okay, it wasn’t anything like the winters in Finland, Norway, or anywhere near the Arctic. Sure, but they never used to have summers like we had, so when they complain about the scorching heat, we were still wearing our winter jackets.
But I digress – the unusually long and cold winter. It started in November with temperatures around zero degrees Celsius, then the mercury dropped to minus 15 or 20, whereas just a couple of years ago those same thermometers were showing the same values but in positive figures. Funny, innit, that when I was a kid, we imagined Santa sliding through the Puszta – the Great Hungarian Plain – with his sledge, and no wonder that a few years back Rudolf was begging for wheels.
As the daylight hours grew longer, and the temperature got higher – mind you, today the peak was 20 degrees Celsius – the first heavy, dark rain clouds rolled in. It didn’t take much for the first drops to reach the Earth. The slight drizzle first became steady, unremarkable rain, but the next time we noticed, it began to pour. The Sun turned into a blurred light bulb, and once the wind picked up, it completely covered our celestial heater. It was a fantastic sight, and the surrounding hills were swallowed by the downpour.
And that sharp earthy smell, that familiar petrichor of the first spring rain suddenly hit our noses causing that unmistakable olfactory sensation that unequivocally heralded the seasonal change. My entire body was enveloped in this fragrance which was earthy, muddy, and fresh, mingled with the first stirrings of everything coming back to life. For a moment I felt like I was one with nature. For a moment I forgot the world. For a moment my mind switched off. And, for a fleeting moment this experience gave my soul strength.
But I digress – the unusually long and cold winter. It started in November with temperatures around zero degrees Celsius, then the mercury dropped to minus 15 or 20, whereas just a couple of years ago those same thermometers were showing the same values but in positive figures. Funny, innit, that when I was a kid, we imagined Santa sliding through the Puszta – the Great Hungarian Plain – with his sledge, and no wonder that a few years back Rudolf was begging for wheels.
As the daylight hours grew longer, and the temperature got higher – mind you, today the peak was 20 degrees Celsius – the first heavy, dark rain clouds rolled in. It didn’t take much for the first drops to reach the Earth. The slight drizzle first became steady, unremarkable rain, but the next time we noticed, it began to pour. The Sun turned into a blurred light bulb, and once the wind picked up, it completely covered our celestial heater. It was a fantastic sight, and the surrounding hills were swallowed by the downpour.
And that sharp earthy smell, that familiar petrichor of the first spring rain suddenly hit our noses causing that unmistakable olfactory sensation that unequivocally heralded the seasonal change. My entire body was enveloped in this fragrance which was earthy, muddy, and fresh, mingled with the first stirrings of everything coming back to life. For a moment I felt like I was one with nature. For a moment I forgot the world. For a moment my mind switched off. And, for a fleeting moment this experience gave my soul strength.
I love spring rain…
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