A Conversation With Myself, About the Weather

"A beautiful day."

"It is."

"To be cherished. There aren't too many of these left before it gets cold and dreary."

"It's true."

"But, then, it's a different kind of beauty. Beauty still, but different."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Snow, and the like. The garbage of the streets covered by pure, clean snow, and for a moment forgotten."

"Yes! And then the filthy black slush, and then wetness, everywhere."

"Yes! A Pennsylvania winter. And I always look forward to it, and then it happens, and I wonder why I looked forward to it. Why? Cold , and wet, and all-consuming. We all say we love the changing of the seasons, but aren't we just too poor or too lazy to go anywhere else? Isn't that what it really is?"

"I don't know. I've never lived anywhere else. But I do love the changing of the seasons. Things are relative, right? If it was 60 and sunny all the time, could you really enjoy it?"

"That's ridiculous. Of course you could enjoy it. What is there that you like to do that you couldn't do when it's 60 and sunny? Huh?"

"Well, ice skating for one. And skiiing."

"That's true. But to do these things, and at what cost? Do you suppose there are blizzards in heaven? And heat stroke?"

"Curt..."

"Do you listen to yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me, what happens every time you go ice skating?"

"That doesn't matter. Other people enjoy ice skating. And skiing. Maybe I'll finally go skiing this winter. Maybe Ronny will take me."

"Do you really think you can make it to 365 posts, Curt? It feels like you're really straining."

"Maybe so. You know what Mom said. 'Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody ever does anything about it.' I think that's probably more true now than it ever has been, if you think about it."

"Who has time to think about anything?"

"That's true."

" Huh."