Why is it that in the summer when it is 68* in the house it is comfortable but in the fall and winter when it is 68* it is uncomfortably chilly?
I just can’t figure it out. A few weeks ago I had the air conditioner on and wearing shorts and tank tops and was quite comfortable. Today I have sweats on and not one but two pairs of socks on and I still feel a chill. When I was reading I was wrapped in an afghan and now as I type I have the heater on. But I refuse to turn the furnace on…that seems to make cold weather show up sooner and right now it is just chilly.
I also can’t figure out when I became such a freeze baby wimp. I grew up in the Snowbelt but I guess after over thirty years in the south my Yankee blood has thinned to flow like iced tea.
Today, I think bears are smart, hibernation is the way to go.
It is gray and misty and cold today, what I call Ohio weather. When I look out my window and see the wet street and water dripping off the tree branches and low gray skies I begin to feel a pull towards home. This is really odd because once I left Ohio and came to South Carolina I never went back.
Ohio friends have been–not forgotten–but left there untended and so now are just people from the past with no real importance in the present. There is family still in Ohio– part of my heart–but in truth, except for my brother, we are pretty much strangers. Why then do I think of Ohio as home? Is it because I was a child there? Is there something about childhood memories about a place that finds a corner in the heart and makes that place forever home?