Browsed by
Category: weather

Considering Categories

Considering Categories

Comments 0 Comment

I’ve been taking a look at the categories in my blog, trying to whittle down a list that’s 160 strong, which is about, oh, 150 categories too many. 

Doing this is an exercise not just in taxonomy but identity. That more posts are tagged “walking” than anything else is to be expected — but why so many posts tagged weather? 

When I first realized this, I took myself to task: “Weather, Anne? Really? Can’t you do better than that?” But then I thought about it some more. 

For a blog that’s about place, about noticing, what could be more elemental than the elements? 

Whether it’s the snow that made this blog possible or the heat that’s even now telling me to finish my post and start walking immediately, before the pavement is truly sizzling, weather is not a tepid topic. It’s a living, breathing force we reckon with daily.

Giving Green a Chance

Giving Green a Chance

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday amidst the cooking and prepping for the evening’s festivities, the clouds were building, the air becoming even stickier, though that seemed impossible.

There have been so many times this summer when this had happened, but to no avail. Yesterday afternoon was different, though.

By evening an inch and a half of rain had fallen, soaking the ground, tamping down dust, freshening up the ferns, giving green a chance. 

It needs it. 

(A tracery of shadows on a past lawn.)

Cool Breeze

Cool Breeze

Comments 0 Comment

Something shifted overnight. It won’t last long, so I’d better write fast.  A cool breeze is blowing in from the west, bending the bamboo that fringes the deck, and thin clouds are scuttling through a blue sky.

There is movement and gladness in the air, and the lazy trills of birdsong. 

Colors look brighter, and there are plenty of them, especially in the back garden. 

I’d like to sit here and keep describing it all, but I’d better walk now, before it goes away.

(Two young walkers enjoying a cool breeze a few weeks ago. Photo: CCC)

Boiling Point

Boiling Point

Comments 0 Comment

In case you haven’t heard, there’s a heat wave in the Eastern United States, with temperatures of 100 degrees, which will feel warmer with the humidity.

The chances are you have heard, though, because the weather folks have been beating the drum about this since Monday. Through lovely cool mornings and passable afternoons, we’re heard about heat domes, hydration and cooling centers. 

It’s not just a different kind of weather these days; it’s a different kind of weather report.  

(One of the hotter places I’ve visited recently: the Alcazar in Seville, Spain.)

“Open Door Policy”

“Open Door Policy”

Comments 0 Comment

The term sounds vaguely familiar, like something I learned long ago, and a quick search tells me that it was a system of equal trade and investment in China in the first half of the 20th century. 

I chose the title with another thought in mind: the way it feels to leave the front door open on a perfect June afternoon. An open door policy made possible by a screen instead of glass, and perhaps only good for another day or two. 

So far, we’ve been able to get by without air conditioning in the house: opening and closing windows at strategic moments, gathering in the morning coolness like an arm full of crisp line-dried laundry.

They’re calling for much higher temps by week’s end, so we may have to give in and close up the house. But it’s been lovely to leave doors and windows open, to breathe in and out with the day.

Suddenly Summer

Suddenly Summer

Comments 0 Comment

We’ve gone from cool and rainy to humid and hot. Suddenly it is summer in Virginia. I don’t mind. I love heat and humidity. But the body struggles to adjust. 

Yesterday I walked in the late afternoon, and my feet were dragging. Today I left early, strolling through the last vestiges of pre-dawn coolness that were lingering in the shady spots of my route. 

Back home now I can feel the heat starting to bear down. But the dappled shade of deck and yard promise several hours of al fresco pleasure. 

Welcome Clouds

Welcome Clouds

Comments 0 Comment

I never thought I’d say this but around here the occasional cloudy day comes as a gift: dark, sodden and lacking in expectations. 

I’ve never faulted the climate of northern Virginia. It’s hot in the summer and mild in the winter. Almost too mild these days, turning what was once distinctly four seasons into three-and-a-half. Springs and falls are long and lovely. 

But the steady drumbeat of sunshine can be too much. And this from a sun worshipper. A sunny day comes with its own set of expectations: errands to run, writing to complete before afternoon rays stream through the office windows right into my eyes. 

When do we stay inside and clean the closet? When do we wander lonely as a cloud? Those are questions I ask myself often … but not today. 

A Prediction

A Prediction

Comments 0 Comment

So we have finally come to the end of January, the longest month. I’m convinced it has at least 40 days. No wait, that’s Lent, and it will be arriving soon enough. 

But today we’re in the clear. It’s February 2, and the groundhog has predicted an early spring. Based on the blooming snowdrops and hellebores, on the inch-long daffodil shoots in the front yard and the faint fuzz of bloom on the witch hazel tree in back, I’d say the groundhog’s prediction may be true. 

According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, though, the rodent has been right only 40 percent of the time. So I won’t pack away the hats, gloves and wool sweaters just yet. I won’t wish him wrong, either.

Woods in White

Woods in White

Comments 0 Comment

The main roads were plowed by Saturday, but wind chill kept me inside. By yesterday, though, temps edged up to the high 30s, and I was itching to leave the house. Would the Reston trails be clear? 

Some were, and those that weren’t I avoided, snapping a photo instead. 

I trod paths I haven’t walked in a while, passed the “laughing tree,” which now sports a white mustache. 

There was a thin layer of frosting on bowed limbs, like a squiggle of toothpaste on a toothbrush. 

I hiked for more than an hour. I was not alone. 

Soon to be Gone

Soon to be Gone

Comments 0 Comment

The snow is falling as I write. It’s piling up on the deck, weighing down the potted ivy, filling in the footsteps, smothering the covered chaise. After having no snow for 24 months, two storms in a week have dumped more than a half a foot here. 

As mentioned earlier, I’m not a skier or a snow-shoer, and I tiptoe around ice. But I love to watch the white stuff coming down, to marvel at the way it clings to every branch and twig. I like the way it banishes the wanness of winter, the contrast it provides. 

As it grows lighter here, ghost trees emerge from the backyard: spindly white arms, tall dark trunks. Small birds clog the feeder, land lightly on a snow bank, fluff the flakes with their little tails.

Soon I’ll celebrate the 14th anniversary of this blog, which was conceived in snow, made possible by the week off work that snow provided. Snow was my first topic. Strange since we have so little of it anymore. Another way in which these pages celebrate not only the here-and-now but also the soon-to-be-gone.