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Once a year, I have a spring moment.
And it doesn’t happen on 1 September. It usually happens somewhere in the first week of August. Usually, but not always.
To be honest, I haven’t kept a record of the precise date and time but, for the past two decades, it’s always happened way before our “official” Spring Day.
My spring moment happens when I open my bedroom curtains in the morning and notice that my neighbour’s peach tree is covered in blossoms.
I can’t tell you if his lawn has turned green at the same time, or whether the birds have little ones to feed, because the sight of those exquisite blossoms blinds me to everything else.
That’s the moment I realise the season is definitely changing and that I can start looking forward to summer and all the rejuvenation it brings. I know that most of us regard 1 September as Spring Day, but to put a specific date ona change of season is a bit more complicated.
Mrs Google, for example, says spring 2021 in the southern hemisphere begins on Wednesday, 22 September and ends on Tuesday, 21 December.
As a sidenote, she says all dates are in South Africa standard time.
In Australia and New Zealand, however, Spring began on 1 September and will end on 30 November. Go figure. I always thought we were all southern hemisphere partners.
Be that as it may, I’m old enough to know that it very seldom pays a man to argue with a woman.
To argue with Mrs Google and Mother Nature at the same time would be looking for trouble on a major scale. It does, however, prove that spring doesn’t spring at the same time for everyone.
My biggest wish is that I, as well as Mother Nature and Mrs Google, have got it wrong this year.
I would love to see South Africa experience the most rejuvenating change of season some time between 27 October and 1 November.
I imagine a season where, for once, the sun will shine on all of us, in equal measure, regardless.
Let’s make it happen. Let’s vote for a change of season.