Here’s the thing: I grew up in California. Not the ‘Golden State’ stereotype Southern California, but Northern California (and no, you heathens, they are not the same). And in Northern California, these things the rest of the world refers to as ‘seasons’ kind of don’t exists. Summer is hot, fall is marginally less hot and sort of windy, winter is rainy, and spring is rainy and eventually hot. There you have it. Seasons.
Going to college in New Orleans didn’t exactly change that for me. In New Orleans, it’s basically tropical. So it’s either hurricane season, or it’s not. About 75% of the time its approximately 75 degrees, except in the summer when it’s hot and humid. Winter doesn’t really exist. My senior year of college, the entire city shut down for 3 days because there was snow anticipated. It never actually happened, but the fear was enough for people to make the Snowpocalypse a joke for the rest of the year.
So this whole living-in-climates-with-real-seasons thing is a little culture-shocky for me. I am continuously perplexed by the fact that I have to own more than one warm jacket, and that said jackets aren’t used merely for weekends spent skiing. This year, I spent most of my winter days waiting breathlessly for it to snow, and then when it finally did, waiting breathlessly for the snow to go away.
After our friendly neighborhood groundhog declared 6 more weeks of winter, I resigned myself to a lot more snowy morning commutes. But lo! This week, the Northeast has decided that we’re ready for spring, and I’ve been happily wandering the streets of my fair city in only a long sleeved shirt and a cardigan. Enjoying a February day at a balmy 55 degrees makes me feel like I’m right back in temperate California or pseudo-tropical NOLA again. So while I may never understand this whole ‘4-distinct-seasons’ thing, I think I’ve come to appreciate it. Or at least I will by the time summer rolls around.
Day 53: February 23, 2017