No such thing as bad weather

We are having a cold spell this week. According to the news, it is the coldest spell the area has seen in two winters, and people can’t stop talking about it. Mostly they complain, of course, though locals of a certain age couple their complaints with commentary about how much colder it used to be. Good or bad, people like to complain about the weather, which is fine with me. I just ignore them. 

What I find sad is how many people let weather interfere with living. I learned this early on after moving to Maine.

I was doing yard work, working on chores that should have been finished by early October, except that life had gotten away from me. It was blustery, right around freezing, and sleeting. My feet were wet and my hands were numb and nearly useless. As I collected and stored garden tools, drained and coiled the hoses, put protectors over the rhododendrons and miniature lilacs, and mulched the more delicate plants, I complained to my neighbor about how this would be good weather for watching football but it was bad weather for yard work.

Jim cleared his throat and paused to make sure I was listening before he said, with just a hint of reproof for this energetic but obviously incompetent inmigrant from away, “Tain’t no such thing as bad weathuh, jest the wrong clothes.”

Whenever I’m tempted to let the weather dampen my enthusiasm or inhibit my activities, I remember  that nasty mid-November day during our first Fall in Maine. And I make sure I am wearing the right clothes.


 

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