The weather has always been a particular obsession of mine. Gardeners, farmers and nature lovers check atmospheric conditions and talk about the climate incessantly.
Living in Southern California, I occasionally miss having the back east ever-changing and ever-challenging weather, although not so much during wild and destructive, super storm Sandy. I am best known actually for loving comfort and not being inconvenienced.
I keep track of everyone via the weather. It’s in the low 40’s right now up here high in the mountains and also in Seattle, where my son lives and in New York as well, where my daughter and my best friend reside. Down the mountain, it’s in the low 60’s.
Humidity influences my hairstyle and may irritate my spouse’s ankle, broken when he was a teen. When it’s hot out, I get miserable and feel like I cannot breathe. When it’s sunny too many days in a row, I feel I need a break from all the sunshine. The one thing I relish about the weather – how it changes – is what we don’t get much of.
It stands to reason therefore; up here in the San Bernardino Mountains it is personally delightful for me. Not only is it all foggy and scary and cold and dark, it’s different from what we are used to. Change is good sometimes. The ride up here was treacherous for about ten miles through winding, steep inclines, between boulders and a plunging drop only because I was in a cloud or deep fog and couldn’t see.
But that’s all behind me now, I am safe and the fireplace is blazing, Mayan Chocolate tea with stevia and almond milk at my side and a new novel to indulge in. My abode is dry and the heat is warming. Electricity and Internet is on and up. I brought up plenty of food and snacks to partake in.
It might even snow. I love the snow. There is a hush when it snows and as the white flakes fall, it smells like pine and earth and clarity. If it’s cold enough, the snowflakes stick to the branches, rocks, ground and each other; everything is covered in a blanket of thick milk purity, clean and fresh, sterile and genuine – nature’s virgin gift to us all. Snow is frosty to the touch and crunchy to the ears when boots step in the chilly, spotless and vast drifts, leaving behind tracks. Gentle snow landing softly on your outstretched tongue is divine and a nod to childhood.
When it rains below in the winter, it may snow above; five thousand feet above sea level up here, where I am, right now. And rain is predicted tonight and tomorrow in Sunny Southern California. I can only hope. I am keeping my fingers crossed I have enough firewood. I am glad I borrowed my husband’s four by four truck with all-weather tires. And I feel lucky I get to enjoy my treehouse so much in all weather conditions!