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Winter weather.
Feb. 8th, 2007 10:50 pmI like cold weather.
To me, the air seems clearer when the temperature gets really low, as it has here over the last few days. Colors tend to be muted in the winter, but I appreciate them more. Edges of buildings are sharp, & I feel like I can see further into the distance. The whole world is slightly more in focus.
Sounds are different in the cold. The air itself feels like it will crack at the next tolling of a church bell. I swear I can hear the my blood molecules colliding with one another as they try to keep moving through the chilled vessels in my earlobes. Any words of conversation that are exchanged outside at such temperatures seem weightier than usual, accented by a dragonish puff of smoke, carried out of the speaker's mouth by a precious measure of body warmth.
Things seem incredibly fragile, like I could accidentally break a cast iron fence by tapping on it with my gloved hand. Even cars & walls & other indubitably sturdy objects look brittle.
Cold weather refines things down to essentials. Nature, of course, know this well. Only a skeleton crew is present. Trees have dropped every remnant of their frivolous autumnal decoration. Squirrels & birds move about their business with efficiency. Streams flow sluggishly, if at all. Smells, both good & bad, are reduced.
Human activities, too, are pared down to essentials. Having to face the gauntlet of the freezing outdoors quickly helps you figure out which activities really matter to you. If you go outside to meet a friend on a night when the wind chill reads -10 degrees F, then that friend & that meeting are important to you. Sadly, one thing almost all of us get to learn is that work is really important. They don't pay you if you "call in cold". So we bundle up & chase the dollars. Say what you like, but that teaches us that money is really important to us. It's a winter truth.
Yes, it's cold out. Yes, I whimper a little bit as I walk down Ditmars Boulevard, straight into the wind off the East River. I casually wonder what the freezing point of the eye's vitreous humor might be. I am filled with compassion for anyone who doesn't have shelter to come in from this cold. I'm happy to come inside, to shed my many layers of protection, to pour a cup of tea, & crank the radiator up one more half-turn.
And when spring arrives later this year, with crocuses & geese & that unmistakable smell of damp, fecund earth, I will rejoice. My blood will flow more quickly, & I'll note with excitement every sign of Nature's awakening.
But there will always be a part of me that appreciates the cold, stark epiphanies of winter.
To me, the air seems clearer when the temperature gets really low, as it has here over the last few days. Colors tend to be muted in the winter, but I appreciate them more. Edges of buildings are sharp, & I feel like I can see further into the distance. The whole world is slightly more in focus.
Sounds are different in the cold. The air itself feels like it will crack at the next tolling of a church bell. I swear I can hear the my blood molecules colliding with one another as they try to keep moving through the chilled vessels in my earlobes. Any words of conversation that are exchanged outside at such temperatures seem weightier than usual, accented by a dragonish puff of smoke, carried out of the speaker's mouth by a precious measure of body warmth.
Things seem incredibly fragile, like I could accidentally break a cast iron fence by tapping on it with my gloved hand. Even cars & walls & other indubitably sturdy objects look brittle.
Cold weather refines things down to essentials. Nature, of course, know this well. Only a skeleton crew is present. Trees have dropped every remnant of their frivolous autumnal decoration. Squirrels & birds move about their business with efficiency. Streams flow sluggishly, if at all. Smells, both good & bad, are reduced.
Human activities, too, are pared down to essentials. Having to face the gauntlet of the freezing outdoors quickly helps you figure out which activities really matter to you. If you go outside to meet a friend on a night when the wind chill reads -10 degrees F, then that friend & that meeting are important to you. Sadly, one thing almost all of us get to learn is that work is really important. They don't pay you if you "call in cold". So we bundle up & chase the dollars. Say what you like, but that teaches us that money is really important to us. It's a winter truth.
Yes, it's cold out. Yes, I whimper a little bit as I walk down Ditmars Boulevard, straight into the wind off the East River. I casually wonder what the freezing point of the eye's vitreous humor might be. I am filled with compassion for anyone who doesn't have shelter to come in from this cold. I'm happy to come inside, to shed my many layers of protection, to pour a cup of tea, & crank the radiator up one more half-turn.
And when spring arrives later this year, with crocuses & geese & that unmistakable smell of damp, fecund earth, I will rejoice. My blood will flow more quickly, & I'll note with excitement every sign of Nature's awakening.
But there will always be a part of me that appreciates the cold, stark epiphanies of winter.
