Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Monday, May 24, 2010

View From A Veranda

An evening spent in the shade of the veranda, welcome relief from the life-sucking heat and humidity we are enduring. I may as well be living a scene written by Tennessee Williams. How is it fair that we survive the frozen land only to find ourselves sweat-drenched and miserable in May? After two months of weather so delectable I could taste it, as if rolling it around my tongue like a very good wine. How can I be so conflicted; to love the early spring, the fantasy it played upon us, only to find myself melting away as I sit on the veranda, gathering the shade of the trees around me like a cool embrace.

And the real irony, the part that makes me mad; I can't grow lemons, or wisteria. Bougainvillea or peaches. I can swelter in the the humidity laden air, my northern-bred lungs barely able to expand and contract as I try to simply walk, but I can't grow these things, because sometime in December and January and February it will be -30 and maybe -40. I think I shall become as mad as Blanche Dubois.  

Southern authors wrote of madness. Was it the unrelenting heat that drove these people out of their heads, or was it a repressive/excessive life that did it? I do rather enjoy reading of the festering rot beneath the surface, no matter the reason. Or maybe very much because of the reason. But that is for another time, my fascination for southern literature.

I am not fascinated by their weather and I want to give it back. Now, please. If I can't grow the plants you can because of this unholy heat, I don't want any part of it, none. My flowers are wilting, I am a befuddled mess and I give this back to the places that say y'all whilst they bless your heart.

I expect my own climate to return, posthaste. I thank you in advance.


  1. Hmmm... and I was hoping you had been absent because the weather was absolutely perfect!

    Although I don't have to suffer the humidity, I find the heat oppressive and I just don't function well when my brain is being fried. We've had a few days respite from the heat, but the temperature begins to climb again tomorrow. Hopefully it won't be long until I am heading east to the humidity and water! It's never so bad if there is water nearby!

    I hope the weather returns to at least bearabel if not perfection, soon!

  2. It's been unseasonably hot here as well. Absurd really. I don't remember a May24 weekend of sunburns and needing to use the sprinkler, listening to the neighbourhood ac's going.
    I like the heat, but still find this absurd.

  3. While here the rain is constant, the tomatoes continue to shiver and I am relegated to sigh and sigh as the first roses of May are bending, like submissive maidens to the fury of some winds that come out of nowhere.
    Wet and whipped, I wonder if they think what are they thinking now? To offer beauty and in exchange to be beaten! Were I a rose (
    actually our friend Paul Barden named his gorgeous Gallica "Allegra" after me) I certainly would bid a fare-thee-well so truthful that neither being nor beast would ever see the lights of me again. Your garden looks divine, there is nothing as aristocratic as Irises and I could see why Mathew told the world to consider the lilies of the field as an example of true beauty. Some of ours smell just like grape juice.

    Get yourself a cold glass of something, when the weather is that hot, all day is a good time for a personality adjustment time.

  4. I hear that's what's in store for us tomorrow and the rest of the week, hot nad humid.Today it was just hot, no humidity. I can't handle humid any more. I used to work outside in all kinds of weather and never bat an eye. I can still handle too cold but not to hot! The earlier comment by allegra was interesting. My purple iris smell like grape juice too! I can never get anyone to believe me!

  5. And here it's unseasonably cool. But no humidity, just the way I like it. I grew up in the South and do not miss the weather one bit. I love your comments about southern literature and whether the weather had something to do with madness -- perhaps, I think.

  6. Sandra: I think you want our climate at the moment. It is nippish [cold from MPOV] but no heat & no humidity & there's definitely NO SNOW! Iris's [are they?] looking absolutely wonderful!

  7. Where would we be if we couldn't complain about the weather.

    I don't blame you ... if you can't have the advantage that the warm sticky weather provided (like plant growing) then it's not fair.

  8. gsc, I know the berner is keeping you in the desert longer than you like, but it is a very good thing you are doing.

    deb, yesterday was right out of the deep south. I used to live in Georgia and remember it well!

    Allegra, I am sorry for your roses and I also would turn my back on the world if I were they. I looked up the rose. Very beautiful. I could not find where it can be purchased though. If it is tolerant of my climate, I would love to have it.

    Lorac, I'm sorry we are sending it in your direction. It is a bit better today, but still hot and very humid. The rest of the week looks better. I am sending my sympathy, we northern types aren't made for this.

    Elozabeth, from southern USA to southern CA. A good move. When I lived in Atlanta there were days the air was so thick you could feel it resist your movement through it. Awful.

    Ganeida, I suppose you don't have iris where you live. They are gorgeous, but only bloom once. I'm happy for you to have some cool weather, although I would probably think it hot!

    Liss, I live in a state of extremes, so we make a career of complaining about the weather! It really isn't fair to have the worst of both worlds.


I really appreciate the concept and sentiment behind awards, but I cannot participate in them anymore. I have too may and I have not got the time to devote to participating properly. To all who have honored me, I am grateful but I don't have seven more things to tell anyone about myself! And I'm a terrible passer-oner.