Spring Back

Winter is, for residents of the South, and for much of the northern hemisphere, pretty much over. Some of you may have some slush to dodge before you are out of it fully, but we can all either see or anticipate Spring from here. This is a welcomed end to a time when both the Sun and the mercury are low, too low.

Spring is of course beautiful here in Atlanta, but not quite as celebrated and welcomed as it is up north. I pay close attention to it’s onset. 15 years plus of personal research leaves me with one observation on the differences between the two:

Spring happens to the land here in The South. Up north, Spring happens to people.

Here, winter is mere nuisance, an inconvenience, a house guest that stayed too long. When winter packs up and leaves, folks just get back on with life as it is supposed to be.

Up north, Winter dies, and the people dance on its grave. Sidewalk cafes and rooftop patio umbrellas pop open, layers of clothing are peeled off, cocktails are poured and love is in the air.

I do miss the Dionysian excess of it all, but not so much to make me even think about living in a Winter climate again.

Spring is beautiful here yes, but short. The Dogwoods will flower and then drop like a prom dress, pretty white crime scene tape around skinny bare limbs in 6 weeks. People then develop respiratory issues, at which point our cars will be pollen caked and the summer heat will descend. Wigs and pads, full sleeves and tights will be out of the question. Heels sink in tarmac. Make up will not hold. The line between glowing and sweating is too easily crossed. Not a terrific season for the Cross Dresser.

I think that in the same way as the earth itself prepares for a new season, at some subconscious level so have I. The Pink Tide is in pretty full reverse just now. I expressed my mood in a post of 13 March of last year, and things are quite similar today. Just not feeling it right now friends.

This year is different in a couple of big and I believe healthy ways. One big contributor to last years loss of appetite for the pretty enterprise has been wrestled down. Myself and Mrs. Bellejambes are on the same page now. This, is good. Highly recommended, this whole honesty and sharing thing.

The other difference is that last year I really did not have any sense as to when the tide might roll back in. I started to get the stirrings in August, but my return to dressing was postponed due to the great basement flood of ’09. The wardrobe was entombed beneath a couple of tons of rescued furniture, bedding and random tchochkees.

This year, weather permitting, I expect to come back into full flower timely for the 20th Anniversary Southern Comfort Conference, early September, right here in my adopted home town. Sad to say I have not attended before. I will be sure to get at least a few of hours of heel-time weekly around the house throughout the summer. One does not want to suffer from altitude sickness, pinched toes or sore calves after all when called up to the big leagues.

I have family visiting for a while in early April, and some travel planned just after that, returning me home in late April. I think, therefore, that I have one more outing left in me before the annual Drabbatical. I will plan a small treat for myself for next week, and be certain to share thoughts and perhaps a snap or two then.

The shots in this post feature some Autumn looks that I will be looking forward to sliding back in to once the tide starts pressing back in. The American Apparel knit dress up top ready for a night on the town, and the Ann Taylor skirt pictured in its natural environment - the fitting rooms at Lennox Place.

How about you? What sort of temperature is your femometer registering?