A“Whether the weather be cold. Or whether the weather be hot. We’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not.” This old tongue twister recited in the middle of an otherwise unmemorable lecture caught my attention. I sat up and scribbled it down quickly and since then have quoted, especially at home with my husband.
Wandering out in the morning he asks, “what is the weather today?”
“Look out the window,” I suggest.
He walks across the room and looks at Google’s window.
“It’s going to rain today.”
“I already knew that. I looked out the window.”
Or he asks, “What’s the temperature today?”
“I am trying to decide if I need a jacket.”
“Open the door. Go outside. Look at the thermometer on the wall beside the door.”
He opened the Internet. “It’s going to be hot today. I don’t need a jacket.”
The other day he asked, “Has it rained?”
“If the driveway is wet, it rained.”
“I was thinking of mowing the lawn, but if it has rained, I will wait.”
I mutter, “You will weather the weather …”
I ought to know. I have dashed outside in short sleeves and no jacket often enough and wished I had known I needed a coat. Instead, I weather the weather whatever the weather, whether I like it or not.
When we visit family in the north. I frequently fail to remember that our temperate southern weather does not extend beyond the Mason-Dixon line. I pack the short sleeves and capris that work in southern Arkansas. Meanwhile, everyone up north still sports leggings, heavy coats and earmuffs. There is no question about whether the weather is hot or not. It is cold.
Since I do not want to weather that much weather, I go to a thrift store and buy a sweater or jacket to wear until we return home where I donate that extra layer. I have plenty of coats for our yearly two weeks of winter cold. I have a choice, weather the weather, or run quickly to the car and turn on the heater. Which is the other truth about the weather. I don’t have to weather the weather. I can stay in a climate-controlled environment and never feel the weather.
Been there, did that the spring and summer I sat with my broken leg propped up except when I went to physical therapy sessions. I went from the air-conditioned living room to the air-conditioned car, to the air-conditioned physical therapy clinic to the air-conditioned store and home again.
I heard folks complain about the hot weather. I never felt it. I assumed they exaggerated. I had no clue about the weather, except for the occasional thunderstorms I saw through the window.
Early one morning a storm descended, I opened the door to listen to the wind. I sat by the window and watched the wind sweeping rain across the yard, rocking the trees back and forth and knocking down those loose limbs hidden high in the tree.
Eventually the storm roared away, and birds began their morning greetings. I left the window so I could hear them as I read a book.
My husband awoke long after it had all settled down, came into the living room, and asked, “why are the doors open?”
“I was listening to the rain,” I said.
But whether the weather be cold or whether the weather be hot, he does not like to share our inside weather. He walked over and closed the door and we did not weather any weather, whether I liked it or not.