cool

it's finally becoming autumn, and i'm quite thankful for that. i'm not a summer person, not by a long shot. in fact just a few weeks ago i had an epiphany while talking to my sister. we were discussing a family gathering, perhaps camping.

sister: well, we can't go camping in march. maybe we could all stay at a cabin or something. but then it might still be too cold out to do anything outside.

me: too cold?

it was then that i realized that i see temperature in exactly the opposite fashion of my sister, and probably the better part of humanity, too.

there's just something about summer--the humidity, the heat, how it's so terribly bright outside when the sun's up--that makes me cringe, in the same way that my sister cringes when the wind bites her cheeks.

i don't even know why i love the cold so very much, but i can hazard a few guesses. cold, to me, feels clean. it is tidy and neat and precise in ways that humidity can never be--and ways that i will never be, either. i think of winter and i think of walking outside when there's that tang of snow in the air, hearing the geese escape to southern areas while the wind picks up and the sun sinks. i think of bare branches, stark against pale sky, and the crunch of millions and millions of crystalline bits of angular water beneath my boots.

there is so very much to love. it's not only the outside, either. it's coming in from the cold, being accepted into the heat of one's home. your cheeks--so red and wind-chapped that they're nearly solid--slowly warming. hot cocoa and stews, biscuits hot from the oven, a warm cat and a blanket and a book.

as i type our patio door is open, and there's a small, chill breeze blowing through the house. it's making me smile, this bit of wind.

i know part of the reason i enjoy it so much is the extremes. the house is always warm and outside is always cold enough to make your teeth hurt. those same extremes are present in summer--at least in my house they are--but they're backwards. it's cold inside and hot outside--muggy and bright with lazy sunshine. i've not hing against sun, mind--but i burn so easy that it makes shade and darkness my haven.

in minnesota in the winter the sun is a fleeing guest, running across the southern sky, barely saying hello before it's murmuring goodbye. maybe that is what i love--the feeling of being hidden, in winter. the solitude of the woods, when no one else is poking about--because it's too cold.

personally, i've yet to meet too cold. but i'm a bit odd, i spose.