I’m sitting here shivering because I wore the wrong clothes. Light and sleeveless and of course bright orange, just because it’s summer. But the weather’s been in such hurry that it’s raining in March. I had a whole armoire of summer clothes and a flawless plan for our island getaway. What do I do with those? Summer was my perfect prescription for past days of feeling downcast: saltwater, sundecks, and entire days to perfect the art of doing nothing.
(A girl just came to ask me if I’d rather go inside seeing I am a bit wet. I told her I’d wait it out a bit more. You never know in this weather.)
But this isn’t just a drizzle. I forecast a downpour for the day. And the wind feels cold for tropical weather. You simply can’t deny climate change anymore. And I’m not talking big here like floods or drought. Even for the unmindful, oblivious or self-absorbed, this unsettling weather dampens your wardrobe and all holiday plans.
(Now I’m really cold and rethinking my decision to stay outdoors. If a tropical girl cannot have coffee outdoors, we’re in big trouble.)
I pronounce Mother Nature is becoming more and more a woman: temperamental, you can never predict her moods anymore. Now imagine how other creatures feel like? The erratic weather wreaks havoc on breeding and migration and yes, dampens their holiday plans too. The fish were awaiting sunny weather, their signal to go to deeper waters but it’s not even April and the waters are cold again. At least they can rest from the poking and jabbing of eager humans who won’t be diving this year. Or what about birds? Without a real summer, will they still be flying elsewhere for frolic and relaxation? Even the bees’ work hours have been cut short. They barely had enough time to make honey. We were able to collect enough for a dozen bottles or so, and then gone again. Or what about flowers that eagerly await warmth to blossom? Do they prematurely burst from bud or bury their heads in the soil again? Imagine what it does to our farm? My husband is losing his head worrying about all the water flooding our beds and the excess moisture in the soil.
Summer barely begun and now it is raining again. The seasons are messed up and we’re all left to waiting and wondering. Things were easier when we knew when to stock up on water or fix our roofs, when the birds and the bees and the flowers and trees, could time their lives to the pulse of Mother Nature, and when we knew what to wear or plan a new destination, despite an unpredictable weather bureau.
(The rain has stopped but the skies are a drab, nothing like my summer Picasso sky. And I am still here “chilling” out because I picked the wrong outfit for a wet summer day.)