It was Thursday and the forecast had lied. The sky, one thought to remain blue and clear for the day, was gray with white splotches darkening by the minutes. The cloud were slashed open, water bleeding from the wounds and dripping upon the streets. Rumbles of thunder echoed in the distance, seconds between each drum beat showing how fast the real storm was charging in.
It was going to get messy, yet they burst out their front doors like rockets. Shirtless, shoeless, fearless: their hollers were loud enough to challenge the booming from the sky while they spun and leaped and became slick with rain. It fell into their eyes, made the trees and picket fences blurry, and they were borderline deaf with the way their laughs echoed in their heads, but the dull light and the games in the street were exciting enough to stick around and continue to holler like maniacs in the spring storm.
Winter brings such harsh weather. Low temperatures can be a real drag, the breeze is dry and icy enough to cut skin, and the sun seats so early these days. What once was rain is now fluffy, frozen, and covering the earth in layers that can reach the height of cars. It’s a slow time, and for many who enjoy energy from the sun, a miserable experience.
Instead of hollering, they were silent as they suited up for war. Gloves, thick socks, fleece lined hats, thermal onesies and shiny, swishy, outerwear. Lips were curved in pure mischief and the empty street was soon filled with two teams that split the neighborhood. Adrenaline was building at the faceoff, chests puffing out and eyes of all shades dilating in anticipation of the mayhem they were about to cause.
With a breath of crisp, cold air, their once still bodies broke into a mass movement of arms flailing and legs jerking and loud, exhilarating noise. Snow angels were made by fallen comrades, balls exploded like gunshots against puffy jackets, and their world was a mist of snow and cloudy puff of air and glory for the victors.
Scorching heat made the sun seem like an enemy of the state. It left people holed up in their homes and their cars, sitting in front of air conditioners on high and dreading the moment they had to move for ANY reason. The heat wave caused ocular migraines (were those houses truly shaking?), the trees looked dried up, and you literally could fry an egg on the pavement.
July was a truly force to be reckoned with.
When had any season ever stopped them?
They pedaled through the trees, the heat causing sweat to slide and glisten and make everything slick from their seats to their handlebars. Their laughter and jokes echoed against wood and the man made breeze from speed was worth the ache building up in their calves. The sound of rushing water brought gasps and quick yaps of excitement, bikes squeaking as they sped up along the bank of flowing water and little fish towards the drop off the edge.
Metal hit the ground, clothes flew off in a show of color and cotton, and the first run to the edge was lined with chants and applause. With a leap the feeling of weightless and air filled every sense and their stomachs lept into their throats with the rush of descending through the air. In those few seconds they were alive more than anyone.
Cool water engulfed them, causing brief stasis as they sunk and simply existed, but air became necessity and their legs propelled them back to the surface. Gasps of air were followed by sighs and splashing and giggling. The rays of the sun cut through trees and decorated the water’s surface with patches of light. They laid on wide rocks like seals, shook water out of their faces like dogs, and seeked more adrenalin climbed up the rocks to run and re-leap off the edge of the waterfall in a display of flips and dives olympic worthy.
#14.
Whether you’re as adventurous as the group here or more low-key, the weather is something to be grateful for. It means that the world is alive, the powers of nature are still in effect and they can be the perfect back-drop to memorable moments and ideas of pure fun.
Enjoy the moments in weather you can participate in.
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