Posted on Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Irish weather is a gift. It has rare qualities that are hard to see, but for all the complaining we do about it, I really don’t think we fully appreciate its element of surprise.
Take yesterday for example. I had a million and one things to do, each task seemed longer and longer and was slowed by my increasing tiredness and lethargy. It felt like a bad day that would never end. I drove for miles with cloud overhead, shopped in cold supermarkets, carried heavy boxes and appeased complaints from cranky children who didn’t seem to want to make room for my foul mood. Even dog-walking, a usually exciting task for both parties, didn’t provide its usual buzz, this time even the passing foliage looked bored.
Then, driving back from the forest, it happened. As overhead branches became fewer and the sky crept into view, the blueness leapt out and suddenly the sun in her rarity beamed in full volume. Its power permeated everything inside the car… the Goo Goo Doll’s ‘Iris’ was playing through the stereo at the time and suddenly the notes became truer, the song became as beautiful as the first time I’d heard it. The heat hit my face and made me gasp and rose the tiny hairs on my arms and made my heart beat faster and suddenly it was no longer a bad day. The moment etched itself on my memory, leaving the rest behind, drudgery dissolved.
See, people in Spain or Florida or Thailand… places we so keenly wish to visit… they can’t appreciate that because the sun is constant and there are no surprises. We covet UV light so desperately, yet on holiday most of us complain that it’s too hot. Irish weather is perfect, it has the ability to shock the most miserable person into pure awe… they suddenly see that if it weren’t for all the Goddamn rain, the pure lush crisp green that now surrounds them would not be made possible.
I know you’ve felt it.