Yeah, calm down, I was supposed to be writing about women’s dating profiles this week. I promised. But spring is coming and it doesn’t give way to anyone. I expect her every day now. As a columnist you can’t let anything interfere with that.
And I don’t mean the crocuses, the snowdrops, the blackbird singing again, the great tits, and the February light – all of that has been there for a few weeks now.
No, I mean that one thunderous moment when you know that spring has come again. That you feel it, that you see it, that you smell it – that color, that smell that from now on everything has changed again – the moment that it comes hurtling towards you in all its grandeur.
Don’t get me wrong, I hate spring. Because spring is, of course, above all a harbinger of summer, and I hate summer.
Sure, it’s wonderful for a while, spring. That the weather is longer light and the sun shines once in a while, that you no longer need ten blankets at night. But very soon it all becomes too much again and the umbrellas have to be opened again.
Light for way too long. Way too bright light. Much too hot, hassle in the city. Festivals, food trucks, overcrowded terraces, tourists, crush barriers and neighbors in the garden all day – I dread it every year.
You always have to do everything, in the summer. Going out, cycling, padel, picnic, to the beach, ‘going outside’, planning things. There is something to do everywhere and if you don’t participate you miss out on everything. Sitting comfortably inside with the curtains closed is no longer an option.
The hysteria too, of spring. With that budding nature. Shooting plants, exploding blossoms, wild forests on the waterfront, animals chasing each other, pheromones in the air – get a room.
I am always so happy when autumn starts again. When the decibels are reduced again, the doors close again and the nostalgia of getting dark earlier starts again. It is also so much nicer to be able to reduce everything a bit than all that restless exuberance. So this is definitely not an ‘ode to spring’ column.
And yet. When a good friend of mine said last week, “I’ve been so busy lately, I hope I don’t miss spring,” I immediately knew what he meant. He meant that one moment that makes everything right, that one moment that even I can’t resist. That one moment of the cold from the air, for the first time in months. That one moment from gravity to upward force. From dark to better.
It must be something chemical again, just like falling in love is a chemical reaction. Something about pollen, rotating jet streams, and the position of the moon – I’ll ask Gerrit Hiemstra. But just like with a crush, you know it when it happens to you. And its power is undeniable.
And so I thought this year: let’s honor that moment, and not, like I did with all those 53 springs before, let it pass me by cowardly.
So pay close attention, in the coming days, whether it is already there, that moment. Close your eyes, stick your nose in the air and don’t let it escape. That moment of ‘no matter what, spring has sprung’.
And she waits for no one.
A version of this article also appeared in the newspaper of February 21, 2023