This spring has been cold, damp and overcast with almost no sunshine. Until today, the temperature has rarely gone above 15C (60F) and is often quite a bit lower than that. People have been complaining for two months now how miserable the weather has been and how they yearn for sunshine and warm weather.
So far, this has been my Dream Spring.
I dislike warm weather. I despise hot weather. Mugginess drives me to distraction. I detest bright days. I literally can’t stand the feel of sunlight on my skin. Spending days on end sunbathing on some tropical island is my idea of Hell. Suffice it to say that I am in no hurry for “nice weather” to arrive.
A few days ago, it was heavily overcast and quite gloomy during the day. Everything had this wonderful monochrome quality, like an old black and white photograph or film noire. The temperature was around 12 – 14C (about 54 – 58F) and there was a gentle breeze. While not raining or misting, it was rather damp. If every day of the year could be like that, I’d be one happy little camper! I could wear a shirt and sweater, maybe even a jacket, and not feel uncomfortably warm. I wouldn’t have to squint at a bright sky or have to wear sunglasses at all times. And my skin wouldn’t feel like it wanted to peel off of my face and arms. Most of all, I wouldn’t have to perspire like Albert Brooks in Broadcast News.
Some people have suggested that I should move to another part of the world. I suspect a few of these suggestions had little to do with my ‘warm, sunny weather’ issues. Northern Ireland, Northern Scotland, especially the Outer Hebrides, have all received honourable mention. Northern Siberia – a somewhat less honourable mention.
One might think that someone like me would prefer the winter months. Sadly, I hate snow and ice about as much as I hate sunshine and warm weather. In fact, a sunny winter day is in may ways worse. I get the sunlight directly from above and I get it reflected off of that repellent white blanket that clutters up so much of the ground in January and February. And say what you will about rain, at least you don’t have to shovel it… or so I tell people when they register disbelief at my aversion to the fluffy winter wonderland stuff.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind snow as a kind of general abstract concept. It looks very nice on Yuletide greeting cards. I resent having to deal with snow. I don’t care to shovel it, walk through it or drive on it. As for ice, unless one is a hockey player, figure skater or a Zamboni driver I don’t see the need for so much ice. Ice in a glass of Diet Coke? Absolutely! Wouldn’t dream of being without it. But is it really necessary to have it coat or rather encrust practically everything for two or three months of the year?
Back to my Dream Spring. In my little corner of The Great White North (or as it’s been lately, The Great Wet North), we don’t really have much of a spring. Usually, there is one last winter snowstorm in April and then we go directly into summer. But this year, for the first time since I started noticing, we not only have a spring, so far we have The Perfect Spring.
It may very well be the last of its kind in my lifetime, so suck it up, princesses! Pack up your Seasonal Affective Disorder in your old kit-bag and smile, smile, smile!
You’ll all be kvetching about the heat and humidity soon enough, believe me!