A Year Without Seasons

 

I received a new blog topic challenge!  (I really need to quit asking for them…really...reallyK)

Topic: A year without Seasons          

At first I thought, “How does one season up a year anyhow?”  You know, I’m brown, think masala.  Now you’re trackin’ and possibly rolling your eyes at the same time.  That thought made no sense and thankfully I’m a wee bit smarter.  Still, the problem is that I live on the east coast of the US.  Believe you me, we have seasons.  They are palpable.  And I couldn’t fathom anywhere on the planet that actually doesn’t have them either.

So seeking clarification, my girl S (the scallywag who is only too happy to issue these ridiculously impossible challenges to me in the first place) explained that during her year in Bangalore, India, as an international school teacher, the temperature more or less stayed steady at 10C, give or take.  As she texted, “no snow, no breath taking heat”. 

Well…okay so I do know places like that.  In fact, I lived in a place very much like that for 3 years.

In a past life, for it seems that way, I once inhabited a home in Los Angeles.  After getting married, I moved out there to join my hubs and his family.  I’d never been to this part of the world, funny enough since I had been traveling all over the world from the age of 3.  As we were descending towards LAX that very first time, I peered anxiously out of the window wondering about the new life I was about to embark upon.  All I could see, however, was miles of concrete, swimming pools, and yes, mountains but more or less clumped together.  The city itself was huge and sprawling and…dry, so dry. 

What do I mean by this?  Well if you’ve ever been to my home state of Maryland, you know that trees are everywhere.  We’re not speaking about Baltimore City, because like all other cities around the globe, it is structures and sidewalks for the most part broken up by small parks.  But as soon as you drive out of the city limits, you find green everywhere.

LA wasn’t like this.  It looked beige to me.  And when we exited the airport headed for the awaiting car, the heat was pleasant, not nearly as humid as Maryland which equated to good hair days.  But as time went by, life settling down as I seamlessly (or so I let it appear) morphed into a housewife, I realized that the weather was the same…every single day. 

At first it was so nice to be able to walk outside without first checking the weather.  Back then, there were no easy phone apps that gave up that information so instead I would have to turn on the television and search for the information.  I liked the flexibility of not having to determine which jacket would be the right ‘weight’ and instead simply walk outside with the comfort of knowing that  I wouldn’t either freeze or bake to death (much like what S said about Bangalore, a place I’ve never been to, sadly to say).

But the first fall in Cali proved that I wasn’t exactly averse to the changing of weather.  I think it was something on the news about the fall colors changing in the North East.  I sat there, brows scrunched wondering why…oh and then I saw the date.  Crap, it was fall.  I remember getting up and going to the window and staring out, noting the palm trees as well as the beige landscape that lay before me.  It looked like the middle of summer here still.  And the longing for home became a slight tightening around the heart.

By the time December 1^st rolled around, Californian’s were busy putting up decorations, stringing lights, blasting carols wherever and whenever.  But no nip in the air, no sweaters, no fuzzy slippers, no hats and gloves or coats, no cold noses or hands in need of a hot cup of cocoa and most importantly…no snow.  No smell of snow in the air even.  The intellectual side of me knew not to expect it but possibly deep down inside I hoped…which was totally silly.  I think the weirdest moment was when I saw palm trees boasting Christmas decorations.  Huh?  What?

Sure, I understood it, again the intellectual side of my brain kicking in but it somehow didn’t make sense.  Soon after the slight tightening around the heart became a deep ache of homesickness.  I explained to P what the holidays were like back home, filling him in with the joys of playing in snow, making snow men and snow forts, catching snowflakes on your tongue and ooooo, snow angels!   I disgorged the memories of the smell of a real tree, how no matter where you went the air was perfumed with a combination of cinnamon, cloves, peppermint…the warmth and comfort of a roaring fireplace when the world was cold outside.  And as I spoke, my eyes shimmered with unshed tears. 

I was barely able to get past that first because I was in a perpetual sense of fog of confusion.  Summers were bearable but winters threw me for a loop.  The very next Christmas holiday, I cheered myself up by starting some of the old well established traditions of putting up a Christmas tree and decorating the heck out of it.  And because of the depression I would suffer, the hubs would take me somewhere that I could frolic in the snow.  I so appreciated him for that.  And eventually, by the time we packed up the 4-Runner and headed out-of-town bound for our new home in Silver Spring, MD, I had come to love California and appreciate it as well. 

There were some wonderful advantages of living in perpetual summer, having direct access to the beach whenever I wished and it was only 1 mile away.  And yes, the best thing about California was that if I did want snow, I could travel to Big Bear or Tahoe or just slightly up north to find it.  I’m not even debating all the plus points of that side of the country; however, it didn’t take long for me to realize that for me, I thrived on watching the seasons change. 

What do I so adore about seeing summer slip into fall into winter to spring and back to summer?  Well, I suppose it’s a combination of 4 things: 

God’s glorious ability with a paint brush – I know a lot of you science freaks out there will debate this speaking of all sorts of photosynthesis processes that go into a leaf changing color but to me?  It represents the very presence of God.  Seeing the colors of the trees changing, flowers budding and blooming…each season characterized by a certain blend of hues and I love that it’s never static.  Never been on a drive through the fall foliage or spotted the first bud of spring?  Well find a spot where you can witness this and you will automatically understand what I’m saying.

Renewed hope - Somehow to me it seems as if when spring comes around, there is a renewed hope for a fresh start.  I don’t know, this is something more emotional then intellectual but there you have it. 

Childhood memories - The very smell of fall and winter brings to mind childhood happiness’s and summer, the promise for fun.  Certain memories are easily triggered by the soft gentle touch through my hair or a familiar scent of something lingering in the air that pulls me back in space and time to a moment where life indeed was simpler and since I had a childhood that was much better than many others out there (this is me being thankful for my blessings), the reminiscences are not unwelcome.

A dose of reality – This is a weird one I realize.  But as one season fades into another, I cannot help but be aware of how time is speeding by.  Unlike the child I was, this adult is only too aware of how time has now become a commodity.  The season changes remind me that I need to focus on the here and now.  The brutal fact is?  I will not live forever.  One day I will not be around to see the flowers in my hedges bloom, nor be excited about the prospect of a day off from work because of snow.   There will come an instance when I will not be anxious for long heat filled summer nights nor crunching through a carpet of fallen leaves.  Every change of season I realize that much like trees and flowers, I too will fade but unlike them, I will not come back (not unless Zombie’s are real).

Would I move back to Cali?  No, I’m an easterner at heart.  When we moved back here (the DC/MD/VA area) I was joyous for the first snowfall, and then subsequently cursed it because it made my commute to work dreadful, but that’s a part of the charm, right?  I sorta feel bad for those who have never lived through the passage of seasons, who are unaware of the tangible differences it can make on a person’s psyche/mood/attitude, some good, and some not so good.  Not to say that other places don’t have their own seasons, I realize this.  In fact I believe India has 6.  Good grief, talk about overkill.

Right now though, it’s rainy and dreary, I can see it coming down from my vantage at my office desk.  We have yet to see a good solid snowfall yet, the type that keeps you close to home and hearth but I’m sure January will more than likely make up for this oversight.  I am a wee bit jealous of those in the west who are still walking around in shorts and t-shirts sans jackets but then again I do love me some outerwear!

'Aight, another blog down.  Whoop!

P.S. Hey S, did I do good?