Weathering the memories
I miss the boisterous and brilliant thunderstorms of Midwest summers. As the clouds approached, the sunlight took on an eerie glow as it darted around and under clouds, fighting for space until finally ceding the battle as the clouds blanketed the sky, giving the day a twilight feel hours ahead of schedule. I'd count, "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." between flashes and booms to gage how far away the storm was, eagerly waiting for it to come closer. My mom would caution me to move away from the windows but Mother Nature's light show drew me forward until I was once again pressing my face against the window glass, eyes darting to follow every flash's jagged tracery against the midnight blue sky. I often watched until the storm moved on, leaving behind rainbows and cooling refreshment. Gradually, sunlight and birdsong returned and the day began anew. If it were human, I'd say that the day came back with a proud, self-conscious swagger, as if declaring, "what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger".
I miss the cold, clear nights of new snow when the landscape lay hushed and washed clean. The moonlight reflected off the snow in a dreamy, blue glow, making shadows and objects difficult to discern one from the other, encouraging imaginings of whimsical proportions. When I was younger, I found it difficult to fall asleep on such nights. I believed that if I closed my eyes, I might miss the fairies coming out to dance or something equally fantastic.
I miss the crisp fall days. They signaled the return of flame-colored, leafy piles tempting me to take a flying leap, long walks wearing new sweaters, rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes and clear blue skies so incredibly sweet I swore I could taste them. At a time when nature prepared to slumber, the season's magical qualities flavored schooldays with excitement and new beginnings, as if passing the torch for us to carry until spring.
When I close my eyes, I see these days' essenses sharply framed in my mind. I know my memories are rosy-colored due to time and distance, without the spoilsport of doses of reality. But I'm quite content to leave them that way, forever embellished with fanciful notions.
I miss the cold, clear nights of new snow when the landscape lay hushed and washed clean. The moonlight reflected off the snow in a dreamy, blue glow, making shadows and objects difficult to discern one from the other, encouraging imaginings of whimsical proportions. When I was younger, I found it difficult to fall asleep on such nights. I believed that if I closed my eyes, I might miss the fairies coming out to dance or something equally fantastic.
I miss the crisp fall days. They signaled the return of flame-colored, leafy piles tempting me to take a flying leap, long walks wearing new sweaters, rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes and clear blue skies so incredibly sweet I swore I could taste them. At a time when nature prepared to slumber, the season's magical qualities flavored schooldays with excitement and new beginnings, as if passing the torch for us to carry until spring.
When I close my eyes, I see these days' essenses sharply framed in my mind. I know my memories are rosy-colored due to time and distance, without the spoilsport of doses of reality. But I'm quite content to leave them that way, forever embellished with fanciful notions.
posted by bemused at 10:40 AM
2 Comments:
Somehow it just doesn't sound the same when I recite my childhood memories of weather..."I miss the days of steady75 degree weather and sunshine, year round."
Except when it's February here in Portland.
hahahaha! Add humidity (and more heat in summer) and you have what I recall from my years in S. Florida. Same ol', same ol', day in and day out.
Of course, you realize that I only shared my good memories of Midwest weather. I failed to mention the heat, humidity, biting cold, icy-slick roads, tornadoes (even watches freaked me out!) and all the other weather miseries best forgotten.
Post a Comment
<< Home