I stepped out the door at about 6:15 AM on Monday and found
it refreshingly cool. It’s been a long, hot summer. That’s not unusual for us
down here; I can’t say it’s been much different than any of our other summers
as far as the heat goes. It has been, however, a drier summer than we are used
to. The big creek at the Flatwoods nature preserve near our house is almost totally
dry. There’s only one pocket of water left, and it is rapidly disappearing. I’ve
never seen it this low since we moved into our place in 2006. We’ve been
putting out some water for the birds and other critters in our back yard.
I’m glad to see the worst heat behind us, although we’ll
still have some pretty brutal days. I’ve never been one to particularly mind
the cold, although I’ve always lived in the south where the colder temperatures
seldom get to the extreme. In the time I’ve been in Louisiana, it has only gone
below ten degrees once, and that was a cold snap that lasted several days. I’ve
seen snow about three times since 1986, two of those since we moved to the
Northshore after Hurricane Katrina. The snow has never lingered more than a few
hours.
Frankly, I rather enjoy cold temperatures, at least as long
as I can eventually find a place to get warm. Down here, I tend to wear short
sleeve shirts year around, although in the coldest period of our year, usually
January-February, I may pair the shirt with a windbreaker when I’m outside.
During our “winter,” which has to be put in quotation marks for those who might
mistake it for a real winter, I often get asked by people at school: “Aren’t
you cold?” This is because they are wearing a heavy coat and gloves while I’m
still wearing my t-shirt. These days I
just respond with: “Aren’t you hot?”
Just like how, sometimes, I feel as if I were born out of time, I often feel as if I were born out of place. Maybe I should have been a Neanderthal in Ice Age Europe.
Come to think of it, maybe I was.
