This is awesome. Two weeks with the Shadow and the children and all in the lovingly temperate climate that marks Vermont as the one place in all the world you'd gladly go to remind yourself that weather can change within minutes. Every hour. Every day.
At least that is what I was hoping for on this visit. Some 'highs in the 70s' kind of summer days that exhibit the total lack of weather that make Vermont summers so singularly refreshing. That slightly cool breeze that is almost, but not quite cool enough, to make you want a light sweater or a flannel shirt. Those days are magic.
Whereas Texas, of course, is like living on the face of the sun. You boldly stride from air conditioned building to air conditioned car. I know people in Texas who have (and proudly so) installed auto-start features on their cars so that they can cool them down. As anyone in New England will tell you, that's just foolish - auto starts are for heat - trees and shade are for cooling.
Alas, buildings in Vermont do not have air conditioning which is why I'm writing this to you now at 1030 p.m. with every window opened to within an inch of compressing the panes of glass - desperate for a breeze that just isn't there.
For hours I've been staring at wildlife in my front yard standing in front of my open windows hoping for the millisecond of cool air that floats their way when I open the refrigerator. It's that hot. And that humid.
Still, for all that, it's merely uncomfortable, not 112 degrees of Texas insufferable. And I have to ask myself why that is so...
Perhaps it's the trees or the grass that you can walk on and lay down on without being swarmed by a million red ants that would like nothing better than to pull you into their hill one deliciously tiny piece at a time.
Perhaps it's the knowledge that after a winter that availed itself of almost all of April, a little heat isn't such a bad thing.
Perhaps it's knowing that at mid-July everyone within 100 miles of me at this moment knows exactly where their snow boots are.
Perhaps it's not insufferable because the cree-mee stands and the drive-in theaters are still open providing a tangible link to a season that is all too short and all the more glorious because of it.
Perhaps it's because we all know that in a couple months, leaf-peepers from southern Connecticut and New York City and other places that have air conditioning but lack air quality, will jam our roads driving slowly and annoying us to no end with the word "charming."
Perhaps, just perhaps, it's because when I look outside at 1047 p.m. I can see a sky filled with more stars than I can count and by 1112 p.m. I can hear, very softly over the humming of a, quite honestly pointless, ceiling fan, a gentle rain that, even as I type these words, brings a soft breeze scented with new mown grass and a soporific relief that the best air conditioner in Texas couldn't hope to compete with.
Most likely though, these two weeks of summer are so wonderful mainly because I'm home. The Shadow and the kids are asleep and using the tried and true New England cooling expedient of turning over the pillow - and waiting a few more minutes for the weather to change again.
With all due respect to Texas, summers are much bigger here.
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