I’ve never written weather porn before. (I swear). But cryptic vacation updates from Facebook friends reporting low temperatures have left me lusting for sensual details: like cool air sliding through open windows at night and bare feet freezing in mountain streams, for instance. I vowed when I returned from my own chilly vacation, I would produce the goods in full graphic detail.
You know you want it.
The high desert air uplifts and makes me feel I can do anything: hike in broad daylight without vaporizing, fish mid-day without heat stroke, picnic outside without losing my appetite.
Think: October cold snap in Dallas without Halloween decorations.
But just when we were about to take the glorious weather for granted, the rain came to stay, pelting our windows and dripping from deck furniture for two days solid. We closed windows and dragged blankets to the sofa. The temperature lowered and we wore socks to warm our feet. Our cabin grew so cold we built a fire in the fireplace. We read books for hours. I’ve never been so happy on vacation. Who else would enjoy endless reading in a freezing cold cabin with a roof leak? In a moment of chilling clarity, as First Reader sat surrounded by books, journal, and coffee, I realized: I married someone the same crazy as me. Without him the cabin would be damp, dreary, and depressing.
The roof leak would not be cozy.
Even on sunny days, the temperature dropped provocatively at night. Windows open, we unzipped the old sleeping bag and piled it on top of our other covers so we would not freeze to death. In August.