Today I intended on taking my books to the park and studying under a tree. The forecast was beautiful--sunny with a high of 83. I am an ardent fan of indian summer, and I figured I would enjoy today. The crispy smell of dry leaves baking in the sun and the sharp end-of-summer grass are things to be delighted in.
Unfortunately, I live in a city where the saying, "If you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours," is often unbelievably true. The sunny sky that promised good times this morning became more moody than a 15 year old girl and by noon, she had a temper tantrum. Lighting flashed, thunder crashed, and the air was white with rain. All in about the span of 20 minutes. I came home from work to a puddly world, complete with soggy leaves and dripping branches. No park today.
Still, I'm not complaining. I love the weather here. Maybe its because I was raised in this climate so, like a child brought up on too much television gets ADD, I need meterological stimulation. When the weather is the same day in and day out I get stir crazy and start shaking my fists skyward. I adore not knowing whether to pull out a t-shirt or a sweater, and putting on both "just in case." I love the freakish nature and the total rebellion of the forecast, as though she yells to us, "You think you've got me all figured out! Think again, suckers!" And then she'll get all calm, cool, and collected. For a few minutes, anyway.
1 comment:
You are a mazing.
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