I hope you are listening to this on a bright and sunny day, as it can be this time of year… occasionally. But today as I write these words, it is a cold, rainy, drab-at-best kind of day. (Drab is one of those words that sounds like what it is.) This sort of weather—and we have had a stretch of it—is merely unfortunate for some, those who dart from house to car, and that sort of thing, but absolutely challenging for those of us who like to step into the natural world on a regular and prolonged basis. Those of us, for instance, who flock to Herring Cove to catch a glimpse of the amazing right whales just offshore, or the Piping Plovers, newly arrived on the beach. Those of us itching to get out in our gardens and get to work. Or those of us who have dogs.
But what we have to endure to get those glimpses! Who can imagine mucking in the soil in weather like this? Even our dogs just want to get that walk over with. Whoever said that there is no bad weather, just inadequate clothing, I would like to invite out for a walk when a strong north wind directs the cold rain horizontally into our faces. This is a chill that can invade the soul, wherever that is. This is a miasma that aches the bones. This weather is absolutely inhospitable, and let’s just say it: downright nasty. Has anything worthwhile ever happened in a cold drizzle?
Fall weather on the Cape is legendary—spring…not so much. Winter’s hold on us is definitely on the wane, but summer seems a world away. Winter still has a claw in Spring’s haunch, as the saying goes.
Every now and then we will get a good day and we pounce on it like a dog on a bone. The weather seems as if it is trying to change, but does it really mean it? No, before the day is out we are back to bleak.
Today everything is a monochrome gray. Once or twice the drizzle lessened and the sky looked like weak tea doused with milk. Underfoot the sand is damp, the pavement is in puddles. The leafless trees are just dripping, dripping, dripping, in a cold monotony.
There are a few bright spots. The dune grass is greening up and the willows are faintly yellowing. Pussy willow buds are just such a pleasure. Day lilies are pushing up their leaves and the crocuses and daffodils add welcome color.
What really impresses me at this time of year, at any time of year, actually, are the lichens. These otherworldly beings, growing on tree bark and branches, spreading on the ground or on rocks or gravestones, seem to thrive in any weather. They are the ultimate survivors. Lacking roots, they absolutely welcome this drizzle and fog as their sustenance. They also, along with the gray skies, the white-capped waves, the drenched landscape, add to what Clare Leighton calls the “gaunt grandeur” of Cape Cod.
So maybe this weather builds character, and maybe it does not, but those of us who stick it out through these offseason months definitely can congratulate ourselves for doing so.
And—hey—what’s that I hear outside? The chorus of our Spring Peepers cheering us on!
Does this weather build character?
