strange days.

It has been a strange month. Winter has not been able to wrap it's cold arms around this city. The snow that fell as the new year unfolded with the turn of the calendar page, has all but melted leaving behind patches of brown tinted grass. Like a sleeping cat that does not like to be woken, the lawn is slowly turning green. It just does't seem right. At this time of year, the world should be monotones of white, grey, ash and brown. Now colour has grudgingly made an appearance.


It's not even cold. I remember January as the desolate month. The frigid month. After all the excesses of Christmas has been packed away for another year. After the reality of our carelessness and reckless over-indulgence has set in as evident by the expected rise in health club memberships and suicides. After all the credit cards come calling and the number preceding the decimal point in your bank statement seems to be missing a digit or two - January is forsaken and somber. Like a drunk who has just woken up from his last bender. Days so cold when plumes of steam belch from car exhaust pipes to hang like shrouds in the air so brittle I feel I could reach out and snap it. Some call it global warming, some call it a natural cycle. It's difficult to argue with either. But between the pestilences, the wars, the poverty and famines. Earthquakes, floods, volcanic eruptions and disease. There is an impending sensation that things are building up to a climax. Strange days indeed.