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Tropical D.C.

Tropical D.C.

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Most people who live in or near Washington, D.C., avoid humidity whenever possible, knowing that in time it will find them. After all, the District was built on a swamp, and it  has the miasmic air to prove it. 

This usually appears in the summer, however. Winters tend to be bright, dry and clear. They’re the only time when you might actually seek a steamy environment. 

Which is what we did yesterday, strolling through the tropical plant display in the U.S. Botanical Gardens. There were banana trees, palm fronds, poinsettias in their (semi) natural state. There was air so thick you practically had to push it aside, a heavy curtain on a breezeless August afternoon. 

On frigid winter days, the place is  a welcome antidote, but yesterday it was 60 degrees outside and the tropics were … a  little too close for comfort. 

Flash Freeze

Flash Freeze

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At this hour the rain is still falling, not freezing, and there is even a softness to the air. But soon, perhaps within minutes, the winds will rise and the bomb cyclone will strike these parts.

The temperature will plummet, the rain will freeze, and at sunset we will be in the single digits. Roads and sidewalks will grow slick. The ground will harden. Nature will lose her diadem.

It’s winter, so we expect ice and cold, but not this much, please. A light fluffy snow would be just fine. 

Swish Swash

Swish Swash

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The newest addition to my wardrobe is a pair of corduroy pants. I’ve been looking for some for years, and now that I have them, I’m remembering how warm they are … and how they talk back to you.

Swish, swish, swash, they say, as I cruise down the hall to retrieve a book from my bedside table. Swash, swash, swish, they say, as I amble down the street. 

Unlike some of their confreres, these trousers work as well on long walks as they do in interminable writing sessions.  And unlike the tights and leggings I wear, these are presentable for running errands. 

There’s gonna be a whole lotta swish-swashing going on. 

(This is large wale, mine is small.)

Iced Tea!

Iced Tea!

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As the mercury begin to settle back into more seasonal temperatures, I’ll celebrate the record-breaking warmth of the last  few days with a photo of my favorite beverage, iced tea.

Here it is in a hero shot from yesterday, when it slaked the thirst brought on by 80-degree weather. 

So as my laundry crisped outside and I attempted to write a paper instead of swinging in the hammock (which is what I wanted to do), my beverage of choice sweated and cooled and looked as fetching as a glass of iced tea can look. 

You’ll have to excuse the green shoots that seem to cascade from the side of the side of the glass. That’s not extra mint, but the fronds of a spider plant peeping out on either side. 

Sláinte! 

Weather Denier?

Weather Denier?

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It was 35 when I woke up this morning, a temperature that I associate far more with winter than with fall. It’s too early, I want to shout from the rooftops, knowing of course, that the weather gods will ignore me. 

But maybe I should not go gently into that (not) good night. Maybe I should be a weather denier, one who strolls through gales in shirt sleeves and shorts. 

Unfortunately, I’m just the opposite. Right now I’m wearing two layers of wool and one of cotton, and my warmest stretchy pants. One of my sweaters has a hood. I’m feeling a bit bulky … but almost warm. 

(Looking at last week’s beach shots to warm myself up.)

Rainy Weekend

Rainy Weekend

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The weather in my corner of the world makes me think of a slightly altered cliche — you can’t keep a good climate down. The D.C. area is rich in sunshine, low in cloud cover and, at least for the last month or so, short on rain. Which means that last weekend’s wall-to-wall showers were quite welcome.

I made soup, culled old files, and washed and dried clothes to give away. The rain and cloud cover gave me permission to stay inside. It lent a coziness to time’s passage, blurred its edges. 

A quick glance at the weather forecast tells me we’re expecting clouds and rain for the next two days. Who knows what I might accomplish?! 

Late August

Late August

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It’s warm and slightly muggy today but the cicadas are quiet, the children are, too. It’s the first day of school in Fairfax County.

It’s early this year. When our children were young, they never went back until the day after Labor Day, which meant that this last week of August was the one when we’d  buy school supplies, learn about teachers and schedules, take one last trip to the pool.

It’s a desultory time, summer’s last gasp. The zinnias are leggy, the mint has bolted, and brown leaves are sifting down from the dying oak. 

How can summer be ending? There must be some mistake!

May Chauvinist

May Chauvinist

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I know I’m a May (as opposed  to male) chauvinist, but really, what’s not to like about this month?

The climbing rose is blooming its heart out. The Big Heat is just getting warmed up (though it’s early this year, will be 95 here today). And the air is scented with honeysuckle flower.

Schools are letting out, vacations are beginning, days are long and languid. 

I’m grateful to be embarking upon another trip around the sun today. I just snuck into May … but I’m glad I did. 

Basement Time

Basement Time

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I spent some time in the basement today, following the advice of my phone, which was blasting a shrill tone and notifying me of a tornado warning in my neighborhood. 

The skies have been unsettled, and the warm humid air made me think there was some cause for concern, so I scampered downstairs and used the elliptical until the warning passed and I could come upstairs again.

Though my experience of tornados has been limited (some close calls plus a terrifying derecho),  I generally hop to it when a windstorm is said to be in the neighborhood. 

My basement is not a paradise, but it is, well, below ground. 

Calm after the Storm

Calm after the Storm

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We were pelted overnight by some much-needed rain. I could hear it beating the earth, could imagine it puddling on the driveway and in the low spots of the front yard. 

This morning the world looks fresh and clean. The azaleas are greening, shedding their brilliant jewel-toned flowers and becoming the sedate shrubs they are for most of the year. 

It’s a quiet, still day so far, the calm after the storm. Which at this point is … most welcome.