Thinking about being outside

I let the weather get me down.

Perhaps it’s because I’m a Midwesterner and the weather is one of our love languages. Or maybe it’s that I grew up in a town that was still culturally agricultural, the grandchild of farmers and a feedstore owner, and for farmers, weather is life. Or as we’re discovering more and more now, weather is life for all of us.

Maybe I let the weather get me down because it is that annoying finger, poking us in our most vulnerable place, reminding us that the world is in trouble and it appears we’re just going to let it burn (or flood or overheat or drown…pick your environmental disaster of the week). The weather, in so many ways, is not what it used to be.

This week, after a temperate and lovely beginning of spring, a heat wave settled in. Yesterday, the high was 96. Next week, we might hit 99. Yes, the first official day of summer is Tuesday, but these are not normal temperatures for mid-June. Then again, ‘normal’ is another thing that’s fading away.

Stepping outside on some days this week felt like encountering an actual physical barrier made up of heat and humidity. Like the air was so thick, it took extra effort to move through it, let alone to breathe.

Kevin sort of likes the heat and always has an escort of at least three mosquitoes following her wherever she goes, including inside the house

Luckily, we have air conditioning and power that works (fingers crossed) and plenty of water and no obligations that would force us to be outside if we don’t want to be. We are incredibly fortunate in all of this as so many people are lacking on one or another of the items on that list.

Still, what I found this week was that I don’t have to be outside, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it when I’m not. For the first few weeks of June, I’d gotten into a loose routine. Writing first thing in the morning (often outside), then a walk, lunch outside again, followed by a post-nap lunch in my lounge chair, also outside. Later, we’d have cocktails outside and then probably eat dinner out there, too.¹

I liked being outside for big portions of my day. I knew I liked being outside for big portions of my day. And yet I was still surprised by how depressing it was to suddenly find myself trapped inside by the heat. I still went for a morning walk in the garden. I walked to the library one afternoon. But mostly, I stayed inside.

Don’t get me wrong, if you live in Southern Indiana, you are going to have to face some hot and humid weather. It’s just that usually, it’s July or August and, by that point, I’m prepared. We’ve ramped up gradually. I’m resigned to it. July and August are hot. You have to make do.

But I wasn’t ready for this heat—psychologically, emotionally, spiritually. I saw it coming on the 10-day forecast, but it still caught me off guard. I fell into a definite funk. Even at this stage in my life, I forget how important the small things can be—a walk. The feel of the breeze. The sound of birdsong.

Today, the high is only going to be 91, which now feels downright pleasant compared to the past 3-4 days. I’m sitting outside as I write this. Yes, I have two fans blowing on me and I’m still probably not going for a walk. But I realized that I need this—to be outside—even if it is a little sweaty and uncomfortable at times. Even if the mosquitoes eat me alive.

The weather is not what it used to be, but we’re going to have to adjust. We’ll have to figure it out, one small step at a time.

1. Yes, friends, I know, summers are good when you’re on an academic calendar. I am both grateful and well aware.