People complain about the weather. Rain, snow, hot, cold, too dry, too wet...too tooo. I really don't care about the weather. In that, as soon as someone starts talking about it, I tune out. In my mind, weather is exactly what it's suppose to be. That is, it's always changing, sometimes perfect, not always for the good, not a death sentence either, it just is what it is.
When I was young, I watched how older people reacted to the weather. Couldn't figure out what all the concern and drama was about. Visitors to my parent's house, either neighbors or relatives, would sit around the table and talk 'weather'. We seldom had visitors so I was struck by the change in our household. My parents became talkative, outgoing people, involved in the conversation as much as the worried aunt or the grumpy neighbor. My parents seemed so polite and polished compared to the somewhat sterner behavior they exhibited while dealing with eight kids and not a lot of variety in their life. Except the weather and the occasional visitor. I'd watch, listen and soon start fidgeting. As the 'oh my gods' about the pending winter storm, the summer heat, the threat of a tornado increased in intensity, I'd fidget, squirm and twiddle as though a mouse had found a piece of cheese in my jeans.
One time a tornado had every one in a near fit. Oklahoma experienced a big blow-out over a small remote town and Cousin Tom was sure it could come our way. (We lived in the north--hundreds of miles from that fierce, dry windy area. I wondered if it would reach us and what it would look like. Now that would be something to talk about.) I'd got so fidgety during those duanting times that my mother would give me the 'eye'. Yet even her stern look couldn't make me settle down.
I wanted to run outside, escape the duldrums, get into the weather, feel it, smell it, taste the rain drops on my tongue, run my fingers through the snow. Make a snowman or build a pile of leaves so high, I couldn't be found when I dived into them. My attitude hasn't changed too much and the weather certainly hasn't gone dormant, either.
So it's snowing today. The sky is a deep blue/gray. The sun peaking out now and then and the temperature at a level that makes the roof of your mouth cold if you leave it open too long. Winter is like biting into an ice cream cone and getting brain burn. Once you get past the brain and savor the flavor of the smooth cream, you're in heaven. Yes, winter bites at the core of you...but it is so lovely.
I seldom see a cardinal in the summer because there are so many colorful sights to take in. Daffodils, dandelions, corn stalks, falling leaves. But in the winter, a cardinal stands out like...well, a bright red cardinal. It chirps and flits around like it's on a warm, balmy vacation. Lovely.
I've planned a drive into the city tomorrow. A weekend get-away. Several inches of the white stuff has fallen, more expected; winter storm warmings and cautions on the news. I'm fidgeting. Have my boots at the door, an extra pair of gloves in my furry jacket pocket. I turned off the TV when the weather came on again. It reminded me of those days not so long ago when my mother would give me that 'eye'. The relatives all in a buzz like someone had disturbed their beehive.
Stop fidgeting? No, I'm going outside. Gotta taste that snowflake on my tongue, gotta build a snowman, kick the snow and ice off the underside of the car, will watch the other drivers on the road, clutching their steering wheels, oh my god. It's winter...and I'm fidgeting. Gotta get out there.