Meteorologica

About a week ago, with the onset of April, we had our first taste of summer. Humid mornings, towering clouds swelling to afternoon thunderstorms, temperatures in the upper 80s. I wasn't prepared. Readying myself for open-toed shoes and sandals is hard enough, much less for short sleeves and skirts. Today, though, we had another dose of winter weather. That which passes for winter in Florida: grey skies, drizzle, temperatures barely climbing out of the 60s.

In today's (however brief) return of all-day rain, things just strike me as a little more vibrant than usual. That probably has more to do with the soaking showers we had a week ago, but without the bleaching of strong overhead sun, colors seem a bit more intense today. It reminds me of California. Before the winter weather patterns arrive, the hills turn golden brown in early summer and remain that way through most of the fall. Oh, there's moisture in the air - just barely enough to sustain some kind of dormancy - but no real rain for months. When the rains do come again, green spreads itself over the hills about a week later. I remember returning from Thanksgiving in Indiana one year to see the hills had greened up in our absence; on the long approach path into San Jose from the south that parallels the 101, such delight it was to see that color again. When it does return, it's like an old friend you haven't seen in a while. You don't realize how much you had missed him until he's in your presence.


In my chemistry classes, I teach that acid-base indicators have two forms, one color in the presence of a base and another color in acid. The transition color - a blend between the two, like orange between red and yellow - isn't a separate third form, it is an equilibrium of both colors. Does spring truly exist? Perhaps spring isn't its own season distinct from winter or summer, but instead, it is equal parts both. This swing from winter into summer and back to winter will be followed by summer again - I'm hoping for at least a few days before this happens. I'm grateful for a prolonged slide into summer, but I know this reaction will inevitably go to completion. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the overstuffed clouds and the lightning. But I'll wait patiently for October.