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April 18, 2006Ode to SproingA WritingWomyn CollabHello, 90 degrees. Sigh. I wish I could say that I'm happy it's "spring". Except that here in AZ, "spring" means the beginning of "hot". Spring here attains higher temperatures than during any given summer day in Maine. If I lived in or near the desert proper, I would see blooming cactus and wildflowers everywhere. Hummingbirds are nuts for this state, as are woodpeckers (or in our case, the "metalpecker" that pelts our chimney every morning). The birds are louder and more populous, but that perception might also be due to the now-perpetually open windows and doors. Not that we can't leave our windows and doors open for most of the time between October and April, but we tend to do so more when the weather is in the 70's and 80's. Which starts in, oh, February. Sigh. Spring used to be my favorite time of year when I lived in Maine. The end of the snow, the draw of short-sleeved weather (55 degrees!), the smell of green, growing things, rivers and streams in spate. Plus, you know, mud season. Love goin' muddin'! Spring also had its frustrations, like the last minute snowstorm at the end of April that dumps 3 feet of the white stuff on the budding crocuses. But that kind of "wet" snow always melted quickly. I was much more in tune with the seasons back in Maine. Each one was significant in its activities, weather, outer-wear, length of daylight hours, road conditions, food selection, and home cleanliness. For example, during the Maine winter the weather is constantly gray, layering is mandatory, daylight lasts from 8 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon, the road is an amalgam of salt, slush, dirt, and ice, most produce is stuff that's been stored for a while, and the home is constantly tracked with melting snow and various articles of clothing draped and drying. In Arizona, "winter" means wearing jeans instead of shorts, a possible sweater at night, outdoor dining at Christmas, dry roads, dryer earth, and brown everywhere. In Arizona, where the sum total of seasons is two ("hot" and "not hot"), nothing changes. Except maybe the clothing - June through September sees people wearing as little as possible while still being socially acceptable. There are very few "seasonal" activities. Precipitation-wise, the weather changes very little. We have some fun monsoons in the summer, but they're ephemeral. If and when it rains here, people completely freak out and forget how to drive. Most of the produce is brought in from other areas of the country and the world. Arizona weathermen must have the most boring job in the world. Monday: "Folks, today it's going to be hot and sunny." Tuesday: "It's another sunny one!" Wednesday, "It'll be hot, sunny, and cloudless today, but a three percent chance of rain tomorrow!" Thursday, "That three percent chance of rain never materialized." Friday: "Um, yeah. It's hot. And sunny. Again. And it will be tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day..." On the surface and based on the descriptions of the seasons in each state, one would assume that Arizona would be the much-preferred state to live in. And to many people it probably is, but not this people. I miss the changing of the seasons. I miss rain. I miss looking for shapes in the clouds. I miss the absolute dark of night, with no city lights to block out the view of the stars. I miss knowing and experiencing the change in seasons. Weather had almost a personality there - something you had to take into consideration no matter what you were doing. Here, well, you could probably plan any outdoor event five months in advance and be able to count on the fact that it's not going to rain on you. There is no difference from season to season except that it may be 110 or it may be 70. Again, not a bad thing at all. Just different. I guess I'm just not the type to like predictable weather. Who knew? Comments on this entry? Head on over to The Blog! |