Quick! Say that title out loud! Doesn’t it sound like “awful”? But actually, I’m thinking quite the opposite about the weather we have been having lately in Northeast Ohio.
It’s actually quite nice.
OK, I could have done without the rain on Saturday, especially since I spent the weekend at Camp Ledgewood in Peninsula along with 45 Medina-area Girl Scouts and about 15 leaders. It was a bit soggy for our hike along Glacier Trail, scaling boulders that protrude from the earth and chancing a wet clay hillside down into the valley, but we weren’t generally worse for the wear.
Thankfully, my daughter found a spare pair of shoes for school today since the ones worn this weekend — by her sister, no less — were still soaked. My normally responsible 11-year-old forgot her tennis shoes at school on Friday, so she borrowed her normally forgetful 13-year-old sister’s tennis-shoe-like school shoes for the weekend. The miracle was that my 13-year-old took it all in stride.
Maturity! It springs forth in the most unexpected circumstances! Along with its corrollary: Immaturity! It springs forth in the most unexpected circumstances! (See their 10-year-old brother for examples.)
But if you can overlook the rain, I’ll gladly take these cool, blustery days, when the skies are gray except for the random burst of sunshine that seems to spring from the same place as that maturity thing, reminding you of how pleasant it is, and daring you to take it for granted.
The thermometer in my car registered 57 degrees this afternoon, cool enough to warrant a sweatshirt or jacket, but warm enough to justifiably wear sandals without anyone looking at you like you’re crazy.
The flowers are still blooming, as if to make up for the lack of color in the sky. My morning glories are especially glorious this week — perhaps because their late start as seeds meant a delayed blooming, perhaps because the cooler temperatures and abundant rain have cooperated to keep their roots drunk and happy. Yesterday, I counted more than 40 blooms bursting from the makeshift twine trellis my father strung for me in front of my porch. I had envisioned this living screen as a vibrant privacy shield and sunshine filter since my house faces dead east and the sun blazes too hot to sit there in the morning with my coffee. But somehow, even with this beautiful blue-and-green screen, I never find time to do that. Mental note for the morning: Get up earlier and do that!
Most days of the year I would give anything to be in Hawaii, where sun-drenched palms frame postcard-quality snapshots of an endless ocean, where it’s always 86 degrees, and where my only sister lives year-round in a dinky condo with a priceless view.
But this time of year — with its freshly sharpened pencils and still-white uniform shirts, crisp apples and warm cider – seems to beckon us to let go of the work for awhile, with a warning that the days are growing shorter, and soon the flowers will be covered in frost, and we’ll all have to bundle up like Eskimos just to get the mail.
Let’s not take this time for granted.