I can’t wait for May to get here. A steady-as she-goes, mild and merry month, May is especially welcome after the upheaval that comes with its close cousin, April.
April tends to act like a child, a spoiled one at that. One day its calm demeanor brings a sunny day in the 70s and then, possibly within hours, its climatic behavior takes on the personality of an unruly youngster.
That’s exactly what happened in the past week. We were lulled into thinking spring had sprung with a high of 75 degrees—only to experience a drastic, 30-degree drop with chilling winds in a span of 12 hours. A tease to lull us into the false belief that spring has truly sprung.
Just last week parts of the Northwest Corner were delivered a coating of snow while a little south of that, in Kent, residents ran for cover from hail and strong gusty winds.
April just can’t seem to make up its meteorological mind. On the one hand, the month holds on to the fury of polar vortexes while spring flowers, tree buds and green lawns struggle to take hold.
Its 30 days are constantly locked in a tug-of-war between strengthening spring sunshine and lingering cold air masses that drift in from the upper Midwest and even Canada. And that gets old—tiring, actually.
April’s 30 days can seem like months. April showers do bring May flowers, unless, of course, a snowstorm hits or temperatures plummet below 20 degrees at night.
Historically the month doesn’t have the greatest track record for consistency and April certainly isn’t afraid to show its unpredictable and erratic behavior. In a sense, April is the prodigal son, reckless at times, living for the day and not concerned about how the present will affect future days.
Here are a few examples:
An infamous April Fool’s Day blizzard hit New England on March 31 and then carried over in greater fury the next day on April 1, 1997. It’s a great example of April showing its true colors. Parts of Connecticut had 21 inches of snow, especially in Norfolk and 85,000 customers were without power. Snowfall totals were even higher in the greater Boston area.
Oh, and then there’s 1982, when another blizzard hit in early April, bringing almost a foot of snow to parts of Connecticut. That followed 1977, when another major storm struck Connecticut, bringing with it a foot of snow in some parts with wind gusts of 50 miles per hour.
This current month hasn’t been that historic, but it has been adept at wearing down the emotions of winter-weary people. The winter season was draining enough with early and prolonged bitter cold followed by back-to-back storms in March that brought more than a foot of snow each time, but April is a master at piggybacking on bad weather.
A look at history shows a wild pendulum swing of temperatures with a high of 96 degrees in 1976 and a low of 14 degrees in 1982. How ironic that the month gets its name from the Latin word aperire, which means “to open,” perhaps in reference to plants and their blossoms. Hardy daffodils do their best to fulfill that promise along roadsides and backyard gardens but, the problem is, April just can’t finish the job.
That’s why May is so welcome. Its 31 days are much more consistent and predictable, building warmth beautifully and much more rapidly than is the wishy-washy nature of the previous month.
May derives its name from the Greek goddess Maia, who is associated with the growth, fertility and nurturing of the earth. For the most part, May plays its part well, providing a multitude of bright flowery colors and allowing trees, such as oak and maple, to fill their branches with leaves.
In short, May gets the job done.
I can’t wait to have dinner on the outdoor patio or go for a bike ride without wearing three layers of clothing. And dreams of walking barefoot through the front yard lawn only making it harder to take what April has yet to bring.
But don’t worry, those days are coming. We’re getting close and just lately April has been pretty tame. But it isn’t quite done yet. So keep some seasoned wood close to the fireplace and mittens handy just in case April decides to have one more hissy fit.
Dave Dunleavy was a longtime reporter and columnist for The News-Times in Danbury. He lives in Kent. His column “View from the Front Porch” runs monthly.
