Column: To everything (including clothes) there is a season (sort of)

I enjoy the sense of liberation that comes with the arrival of spring. The first time I go out in the morning without wearing gloves is a milestone. I breathe a sigh of relief when I put my snow boots into the hallway closet, there to stay for a few months. But though I’m happy, I’m also uneasy.

I’m not good with transitions.

By April 1, I had been wearing leather dress boots for six months and one day. I know this because I went to an overnight conference on Sept. 30. I brought my tall boots on Sept. 30 and wore my ankle boots. The hotel was in the mountains, and rain was forecast, so I didn’t think I’d be overly warm. I wasn’t.

I alternated between the two sets of boots through October, because I am the type of person who gets into a routine and stays there. Once boots go on, they don’t come off except for other boots, even if there’s a 70-degree day thrown into the fall mix. This past winter, it started snowing in November, so then I brought out the snow boots. These are tall, rugged boots, faux-fur lined—good for the worst situations.

They are the last to come out in the fall and the first to go back into the closet in the spring. We had that sneaky little snowstorm at the beginning of April, though, and those snow boots came in handy when it was time to take care of our backyard chickens. I’m not putting them away for good until May 1.

Before that storm, I tried easing into spring by wearing the short boots more often. They have smooth soles, so they’re not good on the ice, and they obviously don’t keep my legs warm. On the clothing front, nothing much changed this month. I thought it should be time to resume wearing the lightweight long-sleeved dresses I’d been wearing in November (with a sweater) but the chill of early morning dissuaded me. I was still wearing my parka, or my wool coat, although once or twice I got by with my raincoat.

I was eager to ditch the winter clothes, but I still wasn’t ready. I noticed, as I do every year, that some people don’t care what the weather is. When the calendar turns to April, out come the flip-flops.

Though I’m a school librarian, and regularly see teenagers arrive at school in shorts during a snow squall, I’m talking about adults. I am wearing boots and they are wearing flip-flops.

I find it interesting to analyze things that bemuse me. I know why I was wearing boots. It was 30 degrees when I set off for work. There were still patches of ice here and there, at least in the morning. It was raining. I wasn’t out of my winter pattern yet.

But how about those flip-flops? I could only conjecture. I never wear flip-flops to work, so it wasn’t easy. The best I could  come up with is that some people have a deep-seated need to show off their pedicures. March has a bad reputation in the education field; it’s a month of usually bad weather, and without holidays. April means break time, which can mean a trip to points south. Why not get into the mood early, with flip-flops?

Then we had the storm, which was followed by more unsettled weather, and I found myself back in the tall boots. I needed a heavy cotton sweater one day that week. Much to my relief, I was able to switch back to the short boots the following week.

My next big move was to wear sneakers outside on the weekend. Then I was able to wear my spring jacket. One day I tried to go out in just a heavy sweater, but was so beaten back by the wind I had to grab my parka.

At this point, I just want to get to a place where I know what my weekly clothing rotation is for work. I don’t like to have to think about it. True, I would like to put all the boots away except for the red rubber ones, the “wellies.” I’d like to stash all the winter coats and hats in the closet.

There’s so much to love about spring. The crocuses and pussy willows appear, the birds are singing again, the days are longer. I appreciate the extra “free” minutes gained each day because I don’t have to spend time bundling myself up in several layers of clothing.

When I am securely into a rotation of outfits, when I’m decisively out of boots and back into shoes, I will be truly content.

Until it starts to get hot, and I have to change that darn rotation again.