It is a bit of a standing joke in my family that I am obsessed with the weather.
Had I grown up in a city, or spent my adult life chained to a climate-controlled desk job, I suppose the goings-on of the outdoor world would barely register. However, a childhood spent perched on the shore of a 30-mile-long lake in the Adirondack mountains necessitates the development of a degree of weather savvy, just to stay safe.
Our son Jesse expressed exasperation with this habit of mine, opining that most of our phone conversations began with me relating some assessment of the weather. I was puzzled by this complaint, until I reflected that because I’d grown up around sailboats, the wind and weather were the first things my family would talk about over breakfast, so we could plan our day.
The desire for a certain speed of wind was not always our focus, though. A calm, windless morning, when the lake was like glass, triggered the delay of breakfast. We would hurry to get in some waterskiing, before the sun rose too high and conditions changed.
Conversely, when a storm was brewing, no matter the hour, lines needed to be retied, curtains dropped on the boathouse, and a special underwater door had to be raised to shield the powerboat from excessive rocking.
Boat-related issues aside, the recent Autumnal Equinox spurred me to brush up on astronomy, a subject I hadn’t entertained in depth since college. I may be in the minority, but fall’s shortening days feel primal to me. I think of history; fire use by Neanderthals. I wonder about days to come.
Hauling the crockpot off a top shelf, I bid adieu to summer’s drenchings, humidity and molds.
I prepare chili. We host a family dinner. Everyone toasts chrysanthemums, the night peepers, and pumpkins.
The Harvest Moon is passed, and the Hunter Moon is coming.
All eyes to the sky! (c)
