This has nothing to do with the post. It's just another pretty sunset.
Copyright © 2022
By Ralph F. Couey
For most of my life, the passage of time was marked by the passing of seasons. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Autumn were distinctly different. I grew up in Kansas City where the range of temperatures over a year could, and did vary by as much as 120°. There was a sense of anticipation as a new season approached, knowing things were going to be different. Every three months, a new reality asserted itself.
I've lived in a lot of places in America, and have planted my foot in 32 different countries, and been cut by Siberian winds and baked under a Saharan sun. And I treasured those experiences.
Having moved to Hawai'i...four years ago? (Where'd the time go???) I've had to get used to a new normal. The climate here has been described as an eternal summer, and there's some truth to that. The difference between the average high temperatures from January to July is only six degrees. The difference is the angle of the sun. We're 1,600 miles closer to the equator so the sun's rays are far more direct. Tourists regularly fail to recognize this, incurring agonizing cases of sunburn. Also, the trade winds, blowing out of the northeast, can have a mediating effect on one's comfort. But on those days in July and August when the winds die, the humidity soars, and the sun is at it's most ferocious, it's every bit as uncomfortable at 90° as a 105° day is in Missouri.
Still, you find a way to adjust. Our bodies respond over time by opening the skin pores to enhance cooling. This does make the hot days marginally less oppressive. But it also takes away any resistance to cold. In the winter, temperatures here can sink down to the low 60's and if your body has shifted into tropical mode, that feels distinctly chilly. It's hard for me because I remember that 65° was my climate wheelhouse. Now, I'm reaching for a hoodie.
There are other seasonal differences. It rains more in winter here, and that is the time of year when the giant storm systems raging in the Gulf of Alaska will generate dangerously high surf. It's not unusual to see 50 foot waves pounding in along the north shores. It's an awesome thing to witness, as long as you do it from a safe distance. I remember one evening in Waikiki hearing a young Dad and his son as they walked and talked along the sidewalk. Suddenly the son stopped and listened. He could hear the surf breaking on the beach, and he turned to his Dad and asked, "Don't they turn the ocean off after dark?"
Still, even living here, I miss the turn of the seasons. Autumn was my favorite. After enduring the heat and humidity of summer, when the third week of September came, the temperatures and humidity dropped. The skies cleared of that milky summer haze. Over time, as the leaves changed, the air was filled with that remarkable aroma as the leaves fell and covered the ground, and how the swish of my feet through the fallen leaves enhanced the sensation. Over time, it became too cool for shorts and t-shirts. The night's chill made a sweater feel good. By the first week of November, the leaves were at peak, the landscape painted with those vivid reds and golds as only the artist of Autumn can do.
