I grew up in Montana.
Growing up in Montana, I figured that I could handle just about anything
the weather could throw at me, as long as it wasn’t humid. I’ve shoveled three feet of snow in sub-zero
temperatures on Christmas morning. I’ve
baked under the August sun when it’s well over a hundred degrees. I’ve endured rain and sleet and fog and mist
and rain. Later, when I moved to Texas,
I endured scorching heat and endless humidity. After that, in Scotland, I discovered that
yes, it can rain every single day for weeks and weeks on end.
But none of that prepared me for Colorado.
Colorado isn’t wet like Scotland or hot and humid like Texas
or a mix of extreme seasons like Montana.
Colorado is all of the above all
at once. (Except it’s never humid.)
Allow me to explain.
Where I live in Colorado, the elevation is about 6500 feet. Aside from meaning that some recipes need to
be altered when I cook, and that water boils at a lower temperature so I have
to let the kettle scream for a bit before I make tea, this means that the sun
is comparatively hotter here than elsewhere.
There is a very significant temperature difference between shade and
sun, and when it’s above freezing even for only a day or two, all the snow will
melt.
Montana is hot in the summer and cold in the winter. In Colorado . . . last week, it was sixty
degrees out. The week below that, it was
below zero. Rinse and repeat. Welcome to Colorado. You’ll never get tired of the weather,
because it never stays the same for more than a couple of days in a row.
Don’t get me wrong: I don’t hate the weather. I view the weather in the same way as one
views funny old so-and-so who lives down the street and never did anyone any
harm, but is a bit odd. Dear Coloradan
weather: you are deeply bizarre, but I am fond of you anyway.
