In Louisville, at least, it would appear as if winter is finally over. And if we’re going to judge weather solely based on people’s behavior, then we’re damn near part-way through summer. People here have gone bat sh*t crazy.
The ending portion of last week finally saw a snap in the cold weather of winter, but I think everyone was initially wary of the climb in mercury. As is customary, the first day or so of a seasonal turn leaves people skeptical, distrusting and cautious so as not to have their hopes dashed again. Even though we hit 70F, the fact that it was overcast spelled “freak warm spell” and not a ceremonial close to winter. I suppose that we here in the Land of ‘Tucky are used to 24-hour periods that can range from blizzard to heat wave and back again. That’s just one on a list of few that makes this place so…awesome?
This weekend though, the training wheels came off. Saturday was overcast for the first part of the day, but that stopped no one. People were convinced. They were determined. They alone were going to make it spring, come hell or high water. Granted, it was only in the 60’s, but everyone got the memo. Out came the sandals, the shorts and the tank tops. Convertibles with retracted tops cruised the streets next to freshly washed coupes. The women with their huge Jackie-O sunglasses went shopping in droves. The men filed out of their homes like a Zombie Nation to return to their manly yard-work duties. Children roamed the streets, unsure of what this “sun” was overhead, all barefoot bleary-eyed and armed with sporting equipment. Screaming throngs of little ones even danced around their sprinkler gods, bathing suits wet with delirium. Ok, maybe I made that last part up. But by any measure, it was an all-out war on winter, a warning shot as if to say, “Do you see this? This means we’re serious, so don’t even THINK of coming back again, winter.”
What I find so endearing about these first few seasonal trial runs is how we attempt to fool ourselves into believing that things are better than they actually are. Sure, 65F is a nice break from the cooler 45F we’re used to. But is it really deserving of sleeveless shirts? Driving with all the windows down surely is a liberating freedom that warm weather affords us…that is at least until the sun goes behind the clouds or dips below the horizon at sunset. At some point, the small bit of warmth that we’ve been pinning our hopes onto fades and we’re back to the cold, back to the darkness that has kept us hibernating for so long. But somehow it doesn’t deter people or slow them from trying to convince themselves of better days to come. This collective resolve to move beyond the sad days of winter is charming. It makes you wonder if that alone is what powers the changing of the seasons.
So this week, facing a forecast of hopeful highs (77F tomorrow?!), we will all likely continue our dreaming. We will still play catch in the streets and walk our dogs willingly. All outdoor activities will seem new and infinitely more appealing than anything done inside. And you certainly will find me driving, windows retracted and music blaring, down I-71, trying to soak up every last ray being offered. It may be just a dream, premature and possibly spoiled by next week. But I’ll take it. Perhaps I’ll leave the tank tops for April, though.
