S-T Posts: Switzerland Time

Switzerland is a country made famous for its dedication to keeping time accurately.  The watches produced there are valued world-wide.

That said, another famous Swiss attribute is its work ethic.  

People expect to have a job, save money, work hard, and that is all there is to it.  

The city of Zurich exceptional work ethic is celebrated on the third Monday of April, Sechseläuten.  This means literally “The ringing of the six o’clock bells”, referring to the fact that the workers of all the guilds could work an extra hour each day until autumn.  Hurray!

Quoting from a magazine,  Hello Switzerland, is this explanation:

“On the day itself, the bells are the cue for the ten-metre-high  bonfire in Sechseläuntenplatz (plaza) to be set alight.  

On the top of it is the Böögg, a giant snowman with a head full of explosives.  

When the fire reaches his head and the head explodes, winter is officially over.  Tradition says the sooner his head explodes, the better the summer will be.”

Per Wikipedia

Take that, Punxutawney Phil.  

S is for...

Spring is officially here, and everyone is talking about it, as if it were a personal triumph.  There are indicators everywhere.  They are classical ones: daffodils, budding trees, a mild wind scented with pollen.  People have more lilt in their step, as if they know that the winter coats are close to being retired.  I know that spring is almost truly here, or coming, and it is my own peculiar and subtle way.

I do not support this product. I just like the photo.

Subtle?  Perhaps I would write “stubble”, for that is my indicator.  When I sense that spring is coming, I actually want to shave my legs. 

Oh, there is a big difference between having to or needing to and wanting to shave my legs.  All through the long winter, I wear jeans, heavy socks, and sweaters all the time.  Flannel pajamas are the lingerie of my life.  Moisturizer is a popular product on the bedside table.  No one sees my legs, so why should I shave them?  I am not 21 any more, as my mother is known to tell me frequently when I complain about my weight or arthritis.  No one, including my husband, is interested in my legs.

But with Spring, things change.  The capri pants and long shorts are looking more and more like they will be dug out of the drawers in the bureau.  Therefore, the legs must be shaved, and I will do this willingly.

Legs:  Watch out!  I mean business.

Why?  Dang it, it’s spring.