Talking about the weather is notoriously one of the most mundane, last-resort topics of conversation. It’s the kind of thing that might come up while standing in an elevator with your crazy boss, whom you actually hate but must make polite conversation with.
“So, I hear there’s a warm front coming through,” you say, smiling politely, trying to stretch out the words for the long ride down.
“Oh, yes, it has been unseasonably warm lately,” he might say back.
“Shit,” you think to yourself. There’s nowhere to go from here. You smile, nod. Agree that it has been very warm lately. And then the elevator doors open and all the air that had been sucked out of the atmosphere finally returns. You wave goodbye, free at last.
But as I sit here on my couch, watching a Christmas episode of According to Jim while knitting a black and white angora scarf, I cant help but think that it’s late October and over eighty degrees outside.
Warm weather was one of the reasons I moved back to Florida. As a native, being warm is something I have always taken for granted until I was thrust into a temposphere that rarely went above seventy. And although that doesn’t qualify as freezing cold, the fact that northern California never gets warm gets old real fast. I craved the feeling of the hot sun on my shoulders. I yearned to breathe thick, moist, warm summer air. I was tired and exasperated by the fact that I was wearing a peacoat in June.
But now, with fall in full effect and summer still shining down on my freckled shoulders, I’m ready for a chill. I miss the sweaters. I miss the boots. I want to pull all my fashionable coats out of the closet and layer an adorable outfit. And although it seems as if this is mostly a vanity issue, its not.
There is something about cool weather that really makes you understand it’s another season. A chill in the air really seems to pull the holidays along with it. I expect Halloween to be accompanied by a great costume and a jacket that barely matches. I expect thanksgiving to come with warm food and cider that perfectly accompanies a cold nose and fingers. So even for a Floridian, a warm Christmas just seems wrong.
Perhaps it’s global warming, something I learned a lot about while out there in the Bay Area. Perhaps the world really is warming up in a remarkable way. I am, after all, remarking on it. But if that’s the case, count me converted.
I love the heat. I think the world is a better place when warmed. Its lazier, more relaxed, and thus in my mind, more pleasant. People are too hot to be rude. Your muscles don’t ache. And going outside is always an option, except for the summer months when an air conditioner is my only chance of survival.
Just the other day I was showing my mom a picture of my Fourth of July in Berkeley. We, along with 100,000 other people, walked more than a mile down a closed off street and crossed an interstate to the edge of the Berkeley Marina to watch the fireworks. For the most part, we watched the lights over San Francisco in envy. It was the most glorious fireworks display I had ever seen, even from fifteen miles away. In the picture, my boyfriend and I were standing by the exit to I-580 with throngs of people walking behind us. It looked like a parade. It was a magnificent moment. So many people, all celebrating our patriotism.
My mom looked at the picture and asked, “Are you wearing jackets?” The shock in her voice was palpable. I laughed.
“Yeah,” I responded. “You know, Mark Twain said the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.”
And it’s true. San Francisco never gets warm. It never really gets freezing cold, but it also never gets warm. Although then I missed the heat and the therapeutic effects the sun can have on a chilled soul, now I find myself missing the chill, too.
When it’s cold, you are forced to make your own warmth. You spend months hibernating indoors with the people you love. And soup, one of my all time favorite things to eat, is much more appetizing when the weather is below 75 degrees. I will never trade my Florida heat waves for winter blizzards, but it doesn’t mean I can’t want both every now and then.
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EU Critic’s Choice Awards
