The saying goes that the weather is what makes life so appealing at latitude 24' 30" North, and, assuming you like warm weather that's no lie. The ranks of the residents swell every winter with legions of snowbirds who flee south to escape winters they've lived with all their working lives. Winter weather in Key West is alternating patterns of what feels cold to me, 60 degrees (15 celsius) and windy rain with the arrival of a cold front followed by a tolerable 75 degrees (18 celsius) and bright wintry sunshine.
In summer, when the snowbirds have long gone it just gets better, and I revel in heat and humidity leavened by breezes and airconditioning. While the snowbirds dandle their grand children in 100 degrees of 100 percent humidity I duck out of bright sunny 90 degree days, and sit on the porch in the breeze after a swim, or I choose to lounge indoors and set the air conditioning to 76, cool and refreshing and shady.
The best of the weather is the rain, and for the first time in my life I don't dread the onset of the rainy season. Unlike most places where precipitation coincides with winter and produces cold damp, muddy, or God forbid snowy conditions, here in snowbird's paradise summer rains bring a welcome chill, a refreshing flood which passes through and disappears in half a day leaving more sunshine, more puffy white clouds and rising steam from the wet blacktop.
Then there are days like today when I want nothing more than to ready for departure putting away outdoor stuff and...it rains, it pours, it buckets down and nothing can be put away wet not even for a brief absence of a few weeks.
Wet garden cushions and wet Vespas will moulder gently in the dark. So I sit and wait and write a post, wishing for bright hot sun, and instead wave after wave of thick black clouds, pelting rain and gusts of cool wet air hold me captive indoors, watching the trees swaying and drinking outdoors- a jolly green festival, a soughing ode to rain. Time's awasting and there's a plane to catch Monday morning, whether I'm ready or not. The stress of sub-tropical life.
In summer, when the snowbirds have long gone it just gets better, and I revel in heat and humidity leavened by breezes and airconditioning. While the snowbirds dandle their grand children in 100 degrees of 100 percent humidity I duck out of bright sunny 90 degree days, and sit on the porch in the breeze after a swim, or I choose to lounge indoors and set the air conditioning to 76, cool and refreshing and shady.
The best of the weather is the rain, and for the first time in my life I don't dread the onset of the rainy season. Unlike most places where precipitation coincides with winter and produces cold damp, muddy, or God forbid snowy conditions, here in snowbird's paradise summer rains bring a welcome chill, a refreshing flood which passes through and disappears in half a day leaving more sunshine, more puffy white clouds and rising steam from the wet blacktop.
Then there are days like today when I want nothing more than to ready for departure putting away outdoor stuff and...it rains, it pours, it buckets down and nothing can be put away wet not even for a brief absence of a few weeks.
Wet garden cushions and wet Vespas will moulder gently in the dark. So I sit and wait and write a post, wishing for bright hot sun, and instead wave after wave of thick black clouds, pelting rain and gusts of cool wet air hold me captive indoors, watching the trees swaying and drinking outdoors- a jolly green festival, a soughing ode to rain. Time's awasting and there's a plane to catch Monday morning, whether I'm ready or not. The stress of sub-tropical life.
