Coffee with Mimi
Weather is as weather does
Weather is. Weather does. Weather is as weather does. And what it does is rain. All the time. I behave like a child with my nose pressed against the window every morning. I want to go out and play, in this case run, and I can’t. I want to walk to work, and I can’t. I need to rake the leaves from last fall, and I can’t.
No, it doesn’t rain all the time, but it rains an awful lot of the time when I don’t want it to. I remember vividly the spring semester of my freshman year in college. I was so excited to have been assigned to a newer dorm as a freshman. I was not so pleased as the year progressed and I realized it was also the farthest residence hall from every class I had, especially the 8 a.m. ones. Ot so it seemed at 7:30 am.
That spring is on record as being one of the wettest in Kentucky history. It truly did rain a lot. I’m pretty sure most rainy days were Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I didn’t have class on Fridays that semester.
But, according to the meteorological books, last year takes the cake. So, I was just a wet, grumpy college freshman then and my memory of my pitifully damp situation is slightly exaggerated. Now I am a wet, grumpy senior citizen and, in this case, my memory is quite accurate. It rains Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday … Sunday. At least part of the day, every day.
The benefit of having attained a wiser, more analytical and honest age does require me to acknowledge that it really doesn’t rain every day. The effects of rain affect every day. On the mornings it is not raining and I trot down the drive for my slow jog, or march down the driveway to work, I must confront the reality of the previous rain. The leaves in the front yard are soaking wet.
Optimistically, I think, the pleasant, warm breeze will dry them by evening when I can carve out some time to at least tidy up a section. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining and I’m wearing my running shoes.
What foolishness is that? It will be raining by 4 p.m., the temperature will have dropped 10 degrees and the wind will be miserably gusty rather than pleasantly and helpfully breezy. To add insult to injury, I will have walked to work and therefore find myself a mile from home with no wheels.
When calling home for a ride, I will defend myself with a plea, “Was it supposed to do this?” Well, yes, and if I had just looked at weather.gov in my euphoric state at 8 a.m, I would have been prepared. But, then I would have been practical, not perkily optimistic as the sun glinted through the bedroom windows. There is always a chance the government weather agency is wrong. Well, not really.
Modern day meteorologists are as accurate as the Farmer’s Almanac. Possibly more so what with all the new-fangled equipment. The thing is, the weather is sometimes nice and there are times I could rake those darn leaves and the helpful weather people tell me so in advance. It’s just that I have other plans.
The sun was shining, blindingly, one Saturday. A Saturday which was completely free of any events associated with obligations. But, our granddaughter was riding in that horse show…
What’s a person to do? No contest.
I have always been a fan of weather. I like the changes each season brings. Windy days in the fall remind me of the beach, snow is pretty, spring showers encourage budding trees and summer flowers, summer warmth coincides with longer daylight hours and I can sit outside with a book late in the evening (after yard work and while the leaves are still on the trees).
But, my historically cheerful outlook toward the weather is growing less so. How do those farmers manage to get the tomatoes and spinach from seeds to my fridge? There is a chicken in the pot whenever I want in my city kitchen.
I can’t imagine being productive outdoors while weighed down with eternally damp coats, socks and gloves. I’m not made of such. As I drive to work, with the windshield wipers flapping, I am compelled to wave to the road maintenance and electrical repair crew persons standing in the rain directing traffic. Who am I to complain? Those folks will stand there all day in this weather to keep us safe from our own impatience. The crews assigned to empty our trash and recycling cans don’t call in wet, as evidenced by my cans emptied right on schedule.
Weather is as weather does. There are winter snows, blustery days, warm summer evenings and soft spring showers at least some of the time and predictably so. The 10-day forecast is just a click away. Maybe I need to adjust — after all, I’m not assigned to a road work crew or must deliver the mail and the newspaper.