The change to Daylight Saving comes this Sunday. And for as long as I’ve been writing a column, I’ve given a twice-a-year rant against time changes. In all that time, I’ve had one result: Nothing.
A woman from the composing room once told me I should give it up and write about other stuff at this time of year. Well, I’ve taken that to heart and it’s just what I’m going to do, doggone it.
I mean, time changes are still an outrage, but I’m tired of the lack of success I’ve had over the years. So I’m not going to write about them this time. Here goes.
In recent days, I have received several reminders that this time of year, when it can’t decide if it’s winter or spring, does have its drawbacks.
To start with, my nose is running like a faucet and I’m sneezing even more than usual. Something has bloomed, and apparently its only reason for existence is to send invisible allergens into my nasal passages. My eyes love it, as well.
Second, was the discovery I made after our most recent rain. I walked out that morning, and discovered that our cars were covered with little buds, or leaves, or petals, or whatever you call thems, that had blown down or washed down from, off all places, a neighbor’s tree where they had just started peeking the day before. They were also thick on the driveway and half the yard.
Before I could even think about driving, I had to get the hose and rinse those little doomathingers off the car. I know that a little later in the year it will be fine, dusty pollen. But this time it was – well, I’m sure they have an actual name I don’t think I want to know. Ah, spring, and it ain’t even spring yet.
And then there’s all the fun of being hot at one time of day and cold at the next.
You realize this is the “Spring Forward” time of year, right? Everyone who has places to be at a certain time will lose an hour of sleep. Churches will be half-deserted this Sunday. Folks will be late to work and cranky on Monday. And for what? But still we are forced to observe time changes.
Oh, I forgot, I was going to ignore this subject.....
There are Bradford pears blooming all over the place, which does not particularly delight me. Of course, it’s possible that those blooms are adding to my nasal distress, but that isn’t the real reason I’m looking forward to the end of their flowering.
I’m waiting for the dogwoods. I’ve always loved them, and have watched in dismay as Bradford pears have become so popular.
To me, dogwoods in bloom are just about the prettiest tree there is. So those early show-off Bradford pears can just hurry up and get it over with.
Of course, our bodies aren’t fooled by time changes. Just because the Time Cops have decreed that 6 a.m. is now 7 a.m., means nothing. We know good and well what time it is when the alarm wakes us up an hour early.
And the same thing works with creatures who don’t need or use use conventional alarm clocks. Anyone who has a pet knows this. Dogs and cats, probably as well as gerbils and parakeets, etc. – any pet that is used to getting fed at a particular time, will no doubt register displeasure at the upsetting of its schedule. And I don’t blame any of them.
Uh, right. I’m supposed to be avoiding this subject today.
There’s another bloom I’m waiting for. While I have some rather early daffodils and a regular dogwood, our crape myrtle takes its own sweet time.
Every year, crape myrtles are in bloom all over town, while in my yard, I’m wondering if ours has died. But eventually it comes around.
I don’t know why this is. It could be a specific variety, a late bloomer. But I like it anyway. Once it blooms, it’s worth the wait.
You do know, of course, that there is a move afoot to do away with Daylight Saving Time. And, I read somewhere, that there is also a move afoot to go to Daylight Saving permanently and do away with Standard Time. These moves seem to be perennially afoot, but sooner or later it could happen.
Personally, I don’t care which time change they get rid of, as long as they get rid of one of them. I know it seems to make those December nights awfully long, when it gets dark so soon. On the other hand, though, it seems strange to get sunburned at 8 o’clock at night during summer.
Let’s just hope that the Time Cops are finally overruled on this subject, forcing them to settle for their other sneaky activity – stealing months from the calendar so that Christmas comes three times a year. I’m not sure there’s anything that can be done about that, but there could be something done about about, well, what I’m not talking about.
Well, that’s that. I’m glad I managed a column before a time change without mentioning it. More or less.
(EDITOR’S NOTE: David Nichol is a freelance writer who retired from the Times-Herald. He can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)