Весна?

So I started to write this post about spring arriving a couple weeks ago, but I realized that it was a little too premature.  Just as I started happily writing about the sunshine and warm weather, the snow started falling again and the temps plummeted once more.  What people say is spring here is like the worst of winter weather back home.  But spring really is here (by Russian standards), and the long held hope of a warm and bright future becoming a reality.  Relativity is everything, so this last week of highs in the mid thirties (and in the forties today!) has felt as good as 70-80 degree weather in the States in March.  I can feel the winter depression lifting off of the city, as people in general seem happier and warmer.  I’m really glad to witness both the physical and emotional transformation of the city.  Though I am so happy to see the arrival of spring, I really am glad to have experienced the Russian winter.  It’s true that the bitter cold wasn’t always very fun (mostly it was miserable), but winter is the real Russian experience, especially since it’s winter for half the year.  It’s the melancholy of the depressing grey skies and the unbearable temperatures that breed the deep culture and art that is so prevalent here.  What would people write about/what would they create/what would they lament if it were warm and happy all the time?  Russia is really Russia in these conditions.   And it is the harshness of winter that makes spring so much sweeter in comparison.  That's really a metaphor for the Russian experience, I think.  Going through the dark, rough times make the good moments so rich and beautiful.  

We're up to spring snowmen now!

So much is changing so quickly.  It’s lovely to walk through the streets on a bright day and realize that the sun actually feels warm again and that there really are sidewalks under all that ice.  Who knew?  The first time that I walked around Дворцовая площадь (the square in front of the Hermitage) without it covered in snow I freaked out.  Same sort of freak out occurred when I saw water actually flowing down the middle of the Neva.  Weird!  It almost feels like I am rediscovering the city all over again as I see things in completely different ways.  Probably the biggest plus of the weather change is its implications for my wardrobe.  I cannot express the joy I felt the days that I didn’t wear leggings under my jeans, wore spring boots instead of snow boots, took my fur hood off my coat, and abandoned my down coat altogether.  If you know me well, you probably know my general aversion to clothes and how much I hate bundling up.  I’ve jumped at the opportunity to abandon any clothes that I possibly can.  Though some days I’ve been a little too hasty.  Let’s just say that Sperry’s in the snow=worst decision in Russia to date.  I guess I should be glad that a wardrobe mishap is my worst decision in Russia; I figure it could be way worse (you should be proud, Momma and Daddy!).  

Such a bad idea...

Spring’s a coming and the city’s a changing.  What is Russia without ice and snow?  I do not know the answer, but I guess I’ll see soon.