Musings on the Weather 

I do not function well in hot, humid weather, or extreme cold. Three of my grandchildren call the state of searing heat, Florida, home, and two grandkids live in the pristine but too-cold state of Vermont. My preference for moderation finds me in-between, avoiding very hot and bitterly cold conditions. Most of the time. 

It seems when I travel south – not all the time, but frequently, the temperature and humidity soar into the 90s. Walking out of an air-conditioned building – where I spend most of my time escaping the searing sunshine – my glasses fog over and I cannot see. Breathing heavier than normal while doing less than usual, the heat suffocates.

“Go biking with me, please Grandma,” the youngest grandchild pleads, “You can use Mommy’s bike.”

“No, honey, I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s too hot.” My answer does not please, but there is no alternative. I visualize myself sprawled in the street, panting, in the midst of a heat wave heart attack. No bike riding for me in the sauna of the south.

When my boys were six and eight we traveled to Florida to visit relatives and the world’s greatest theme park – Disney World, and trailed our pop-up camper. We believed Florida would be warm in winter, and packed accordingly. 

Florida experienced a cold spell during our stay. Disney employees donned winter apparel – hats, gloves, scarves, sweaters, and coats. We had no cold-weather essentials with us. Our camper, with canvas sides and a tin roof, offered little protection from the wintry weather. Huddled in sleeping bags, we froze during the night and shivered our way through the first day, assuming a warming trend would soon arrive. 

We were wrong. We bought Disney-themed sweatshirts and wore the one pair of jeans each of us had packed. Never donned shorts. 

A different scenario played out a couple of years later when we visited Florida relatives once again, this time in June. A muggy, humid, stifling atmosphere beneath a burning sun greeted us. We sat in my aunt and uncle’s apartment sweating and immobile – my boys too hot to eat, or talk, or move. Suddenly Uncle Harry says, “You know if you’re hot, we can turn on the air conditioning. We don’t use it.”

Wicked heat and surprising cold. Extremes experienced at times separated by years but inseparably linked in my mind.

Why couldn’t the experiences be punctuated by moderate temperatures? Would I remember the occasions if the weather had been an insignificant factor in the event?

Today it seems that extreme weather has become almost the norm. Is there such a thing as moderate weather nowadays?

The past few weeks my region experienced days of rain, interspersed with sunny, warm days. As summer progresses humidity rises, but that is normal. What is abnormal is the smoke and smell and watery eyes experienced from air blown in from two forest fires in the New Jersey Pinelands in early June, and wildfires from Canada later in the month.

We live on an island prone to the vagaries of weather. We evacuated during Superstorm Sandy, lost electricity during Irene, and maneuver around puddles when it rains. How long before our piece of Earth, in the middle of the island, becomes waterfront property, or falls into the sea? Probably long after hub and I are no longer residents, but hundred-year storms and other weather anomalies occur too often. Eyes wide open, we enjoy our slice of paradise as long as we can.

Meanwhile we discuss climate-related issues with neighbors. The latest debate: Should windmills be built offshore? Do we need/want wind energy? Do they injure or kill dolphins? Will they mar our view across the sea? Will the windmills somehow mess with the waves, tides, and marine life?

I was never ‘into’ weather growing up, or most of my adult life. But bombarded with dire predictions about the current and future state of our planet, extreme heat waves, wildfires, tornadoes – how can I not be concerned?

But I am an optimist. Workmen removed our old wooden deck this week, and are replacing it with a patio of pavers, which drains rainwater (environmentally friendly). I look forward to sitting in my backyard grilling burgers, reading, napping, gardening, and enjoying my quiet space.

Meanwhile, the real-world whirls around me. 

But right now climate catastrophes, future consequences, and current remedies are problems too deep to contemplate on a perfect holiday weekend. Barbecues and beach, free outdoor concerts, and arts and crafts festivals lure me into a contented, complacent reverie, if only temporarily.