It’s the weather, stupid (stupid me, not stupid you)

Posted on | July 1, 2009 | 9 Comments

Summer slunk off to the hinterlands again, and we’re back to wearing fleece around the house. My electric bill appreciates the break, but the garden is confused. I put a second quilt on the bed and shut off the window fan. My melancholia came back when I’d only just tucked it into the soil next to innoculant-dusted bean seeds. It hasn’t even had a chance to sprout, much less bear the fruit I’ll store to feed my mid-winter doldrums.

My early-summer kitchen routine is thrown off, too. Why this sudden desire to make chicken soup and crusty sourdough?

That’s an October joint. You know?

My new sandals aren’t warm enough by any stretch of the imagination. I even put on socks before my shoes this morning, and did I mention the fleece? I’m trying to look at this strange weather with a dose of amusement and gratitude because lawd knows I’d be here tapping out my overwhelm if it was as hot as it should be and I couldn’t go outside without melting in puddle of stinky, complaining sandal-shod sweat.

Come on back next week and see.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Life, especially weather life, so rarely shows up the way we think it should. Or maybe that’s just me. But I don’t think so because everywhere I go, the first thing we talk about is the weather and how it’s derailing some big important thing or another.

Oh. Ahem.

OK, so maybe I’m the one who brings it up.

And that’s the deeper thing, isn’t it? That I’m the common denominator in all of my interactions, be it with the weather, the grocery clerk, the jackass who is tailgating me through town in a 25 mph zone, the electronic payment I’m approving for our electric service that’s three times higher than the month before, the endless to-do list, the child who can’t not express every thought that comes into her head and then can’t not demand acknowledgment of said thought, the other child who answers every question like a snapping turtle biting off the tip of the olive branch.

I’m not saying I think I’m responsible for any of those things. But, my quality of life is most definitely determined by whether or not I operate from a place of thoughtful, measured action or from that bright blue sparking spot of emotional reaction. The former moves me forward. The latter sends me spinning out of control and causes a storm of consequences that are, of course, further opportunity to think and measure, then pour carefully. But how often does that happen?

Not often enough, believe me.

So, OK. Back to today and the obvious complaint that is the cool, dark, heavy weather. I’ve already begun to approach this day from that place of action. It’s cold out. I put on my sweater and socks. Now I’ll work on breaking my massive to-do list into small, manageable chunks. Then I’ll get started with the work, and I’ll try to not swear under my breath.

So much.

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