Partly CloudyPosted: March 6, 2020
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My wife recently asked me why I wear the same pajamas in winter that I do in summer. I replied, “because I live indoors.” William Faulkner once complained that “there are no seasons at all any more, with interiors artificially contrived at sixty degrees in summer and ninety degrees in winter, so that mossbacked recidivists like me must go outside in summer to escape cold and in winter to escape heat.”
It is not merely our living spaces that have lost their seasonality. For many of us, particularly those of us who work in offices, the most pronounced way that the seasons affect our work-day is in our commute. I, for example, wake and return home in the dark during the winter. The character of my work, however, remains the same year-round. I do not exactly envy the landscaper who annually parks his lawn mower and tunes up his snowblower, but at least the seasons prevent his work from being entirely monotonous.
Schoolchildren, of course, know the value of the seasons. In the winter, the prospect of an unplanned day off of school is truly magical. And, although they may lament the end of sledding and snow days, a child’s enthusiasm for summer is without parallel. Aside from vacation as a respite from schoolwork, summer weather is all but universally more conducive to play.
We adults should be better at living seasonally, in two ways at least: eating and playing.
Eating seasonally means eating fresh and eating local, both of which have clear benefits. Eating local produce means less waste: less spoilage, less delivery fuel, and less packaging. It also means supporting local farms and markets. A fresher more local diet is also much more salubrious. Vegetables are most nutritious when they are most ripe, and vegetables that must be shipped a long distance must be picked well before they are ready.
Play is, perhaps, our closest tie to the seasons. With our most of livelihoods protected from the elements, it is only our recreation that still relies on the weather. Consider two examples:
1. A friend of mine, an avid alpine skier, (very) often comments that winter is his favorite season. While others focus on the ways in which winter weather interferes with their otherwise year-round activities–such as commuting–he focuses on the ways that winter weather allows him to play in a way that he cannot most of the year. And once the last of the snow melts, he breaks out his croquet set, yet again playing in a way that conduces to the season. And, although I gather that he does not eat especially well, he drinks local, seasonal beers.
2. Another friend lives in central Florida. He golfs every weekend, year-round. His dinner menu is virtually unchanging for 51 weeks of the year. (Although his vacation diet, I understand, is very local and very seasonal.) He drinks the same macro-brew every night. Even though his world appears to be without seasons, they still affect his play. As an avid sports fan, he breaks up the calendar, not into winter, spring, summer, and fall, but into football, hockey, and baseball seasons. The weather under the dome of Tropicana Field may always be the same, but the baseball season is still dictated by the weather of the rest of the country. His play remains seasonal despite his removal from seasonal weather.
Faulkner’s complaint about our loss of seasonality is as true today as when he published it in 1962–if not more so. But many of us are starting to question the homogenization of our lives, and getting back to seeing the seasons as part of our own natural cycles.
Beer of the week: Partly Cloudy IPA – Part of recognizing the role of the seasons in our lives is not wishing away inclement weather. Without cloudy skies, clear skies would lose meaning. Virginia’s Solace Brewing Company produces this cloudy IPA. The aroma is of citrusy hops with grass undertones. Although fairly bitter, I don’t think the fruity hops notes are as prominent in the flavor as in the smell. Partly Cloudy is a nicely balanced, not overly-hopped beer.
Reading of the week: Song of Solomon, Chapter 2 – Beautiful though a crisp winter day may be, the coming of spring always evokes strong positive emotions. “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away,” writes Solomon. “For, lo, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth.” (By the way, I picked the King James Version for this reading. Is it the most poetic translation? No. The most literal? Not likely. I picked it because the KJV has “turtle” for “turtle dove”, which conjures images of trees budding in the spring sun, while flocks of shelled reptiles precariously perch on their branches and “sing”. I find that very amusing.)
Question for the week: How do the seasons affect you? Do you make any effort to embrace each season?