Hey, Old Man Winter! Is this the best you got? Can’t you do better? Can’t you send at least a little cold stuff down our way? That way I can wear this new sweater I got for Christmas.
Last time I tried, I didn’t make it a full day before it was heaped up in a ball while I panted and Googled: “how to cure winter heat exhaustion.”
The answer was: move north!
No, I don’t want to. And I sure don’t want it cold here all the time, for months on end. But a little moderation — a little nip to the air — would be nice.
Already it feels like spring has arrived. I’ve seen azaleas blooming, and after a rain, rings of yellow pollen collecting around the puddles in the street. I stood two feet from a hummingbird slurping away at porter’s weed in my front yard. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and had a suntan.
It’s been beautiful out. I’m not complaining. But January is supposed to be gray and miserable — when the bad stuff slips in and tests us. Makes us question our mettle, and why we never moved to Miami where it’s warm all year, and no human being has bought a winter coat since 1968.
We shiver and shudder, cursing the cold and doubting the warmth of spring will ever return. We grow depressed under the dreary skies, and God forbid we ever see a snow flurry, we all flock to law offices and write up wills.
It also gives us a chance to complain about something other than the heat, the mosquitoes and the fact that our friends up north — chipping cars out of driveway glaciers — openly hate us on Facebook.
After a bike ride on the beach earlier this month, my wife texted a photo to her cousin in Long Island. The reply was: “That’s great. I just finished salting my sidewalk! Keep an eye out for the papers my lawyer will be sending.”
Others dream of what we have. And yet, I just want a little of what THEY have. Not too much. Just a couple mornings where I can’t grip the steering wheel because it’s too cold, rather than too hot.
Truth is, we Floridians need winter. It keeps us honest. It gives our flip-flops and beach chairs a much-needed rest. It teaches us to never take for granted the beauty and comfort of that warm air which envelopes us for the rest of the year.
January in Florida is supposed to remind us of how wonderful those other 11 months are. (Even August, when it feels like someone forgot to close the microwave door.) A skin-tingling January serves a purpose for us Floridians. And if nothing else, it finally lets us wear those sweaters we got for Christmas.