The Canadian Writers' Collective

Writing, and writerly tangents

Monday, March 26, 2007

Spring's Lusty Promise

By Tamara Lee

In the absence of sun, there is always red wine.

As Winter staggers toward Spring—a half-drunk bottle of merlot in one hand, a wineglass in the other—Spring acts coy and says, “Gimme a minute. I’m not quite ready.” And Winter, that near-spent old man, wonders if he should pop some Viagra.

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Spring says, fixing her hair and finishing off his glass, her lip-gloss on the rim the only tangible evidence that lighter days are ahead.

“Sorry. Thought that was my inside voice.”

“You have one of those?”

He grins. One thing about that Winter, he has a sense of humour.

“The clocks went forward early this year,” Winter laments, as he is known to do.

“Yes, it’s about time.” Spring likes her witty response, but Winter doesn’t hear her. Age will do that. And exhaustion. He’s been busy this year in Canada, mixing things up for them, confusing easterners with western-like weather and giving westerners a little what-for.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Spring sighs, and looks at the label on the bottle.

“You really must get a sauvignon or something a little less robust; merlot is so mid-winter.”

“Don’t you dare start suggesting rosé or, God forbid, ice wine. Please. I couldn’t bear it.”

Spring likes this Winter guy, all grumbly and morose. He’s amusing for short fits and starts, but he does get to be a bit much.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Spring looks lovely. She rarely disappoints for her grand entrance. “I’m off to Vancouver first, see if I can’t do something to cheer those water-soaked folks up a bit.”

“Vancouver? Oh, I’ve been there. Nice folks. Don’t know the first thing about driving in snow, though.”

They both share a giggle at the expense of those determined to use all-season tires in the snow.

“Oh, Winter, you’re a hoot. Don’t be a stranger, eh?

“Who else is gonna keep the wine-cellar stocked? Summer? All she’s good for is a bit of sangria.”

But Spring has already skedaddled. And Winter is left with one swig left on the bottle.

He decides to save it; there’s still a chill in the air back east, where he’s headed for last call.

***

(photo by tilo.)

6 Comments:

Blogger J.A. McDougall said...

Fun Tamara! It was frosty this morning out this way, but the sun is peeking thorugh now. Have a wonderful day!

Mon Mar 26, 10:55:00 am GMT-4  
Blogger Tricia Dower said...

How delightful, Tamara, and so right. Spring has brought us two sunny days in a row here in Victoria. So long, Old Man.

Mon Mar 26, 12:40:00 pm GMT-4  
Blogger MelBell said...

This is great. :-)

Mon Mar 26, 05:13:00 pm GMT-4  
Blogger tamara said...

Thanks, ladies. It was fun to write :)

Tue Mar 27, 12:01:00 am GMT-4  
Blogger Andrew Tibbetts said...

I loved this scene. Write a whole play, please, with all the seasons!

Tue Mar 27, 08:33:00 am GMT-4  
Blogger Patricia said...

I so adore you. The first line on, I was in. I love this.

Thu Mar 29, 01:48:00 am GMT-4  

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