Saison

n. – season
Mois
n. – month
I’m going to begin with my favourite season in Paris which is “printemps” or spring. Usually, this starts around “mars” or March. (Note: the French don’t capitalize months or days of the week like we do). While the first weeks of the month may still be a bit cool, you can feel the openness of the city as the grey gloom of winter gives way to sunshine and blue skies. Colourful flowers decorate window boxes and accent the lush green of the gardens and parks. People are happier, lighter and even friendlier as the city awakens after its winter slumber.

As the weeks pass from “avril,” April into “mai,” May, the days get longer and warmer and by “juin” or June, “l’été” or summer has arrived. Sandals, sunglasses and sun dresses are sported as people take just a little more time over lunches at outdoor cafes while planning their upcoming vacations. From “mi-juillet,” mid-July until “fin aôut,” the end of August, the city thins out as people head to the beaches, the country, or even to exotic locales overseas. And rather than feeling desolate as it clears out, the city just feels peaceful. Traffic is lighter, restaurants are more accessible and even if you’re still here working, you sense that the load is lighter whatever it may be.

“Automne” or fall can begin as abruptly as the “rentrée” or re-entry at the beginning of “septembre,” September. Parents looks as sleepy as their children on the first day of school and it seems like the weather turns from sultry to crisp almost overnight. The leaves start to turn, the traffic starts to churn and everything comes back to life and back to work. The temperature keeps dipping as “octobre,” October turns to “novembre,” November and the trees are finally stripped bare leaving them looking naked and vulnerable.

By “décembre,” December, “l’hiver” or winter has officially arrived. The sun has faded away as if to take its own vacation now. Replacing it is a sheet of grey that covers the pretty city fading its spectacular lustre. While it may not be as cold as New York, the dampness of the climate makes it feel worse and the lack of sun and blue sky makes it depressing and sad. My husband says it’s like looking at a beautiful painting in the dark. You can no longer appreciate it even though it’s right there in front of you.

“Janvier,” January and “février,” February are probably the worst months since whatever festive sparkle was created around the holidays has now disappeared. For this reason, it’s nice that February is the shortest month and when its final day rolls around, you can take a breath of fresh even if still frigid air knowing that it’s uphill from there. And so the cycle begins again with sunshine and flowers erasing the memories of sadness and frost. Perhaps it’s true that without the one extreme we would never appreciate the other so I have to be thankful for both and the transition that fall and spring allow between the peaks and lows of summer and winter.