It's not quite verifiable, but it's believed Mark Twain once said "the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."
Well, the hottest July I spend every year is typically September in Arkansas.
Yeah, I know, we're talking weather here. Later I'll discuss lawn-mowing techniques and how, when someone asks if I got a haircut, I respond, "Actually, I got them all cut." At which point I will have officially become my father.
Until then, however, I'm going to pause long enough to tell you that, (A) it's way too hot out there, and (B) it's always way too hot in September lately.
And it's not just me. Or us. Apparently record-high temperatures are being seen across the country (well, at least that part of the country not currently under water), including Minnesota, Denver and Illinois. In other words, the sorts of places where September should mark the start of that gradual slide into fall and the need to remain inside watching Netflix for four or five months.
Locally we're seeing the kinds of numbers that inspire us to skip the tailgate in favor of a pool party, mostly because summer appears to have elected to hang around, doing cannonballs into the deep end and drinking all the beer.
Now there's a danger in letting me pass judgment on the current meteorological reality, mostly because my interest in crippling heat and soul-crushing humidity (modifiers certainly no tip-off as to what I think of hot weather) ends either July 5 or the day after I make it back from the beach, whichever comes first.
But if my day-to-day interactions are any indication, the general population appears to share my belief that the novelty has worn off the 80s -- both as a period of time and a thermometer reading. In other words, the current temperatures are the big hair and techno pop of weather.
Just as it's not the heat, nor the humidity, but people constantly saying, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity," during the summer, it's not heat or the humidity but the idea that neither of those should be happening in September, for crying out loud!
We should be knee-deep in leaves and flannelled up to our noses by now, not passing judgment on cargo shorts and looking for one of our flip flops. It's not the heat or the humidity; it's the expectation.
However, if anyone in the world is equipped to deal with disappointment in the fall, it's residents of Northwest Arkansas. Specifically those of us who are college football fans.
But coupled with our general belief that temperatures hot enough to be featured in a slow-cook recipe just aren't appropriate to the season (if I'm not supposed to wear white pants after Labor Day, can I wear white shorts?), is a sense of anticipation that simply isn't being met.
Autumn in the Ozarks is a wonderful time. The leaves are simply gorgeous and long drives through the hills are a truly amazing sight. At least until they wither and fall off in the heat or get blown away in some gale-force wind.
Couple that with the knowledge that as soon as fall is over, the place turns oatmeal brown for three months, and anything holding up the process, including The Summer That Won't Leave, is a guest who has decidedly worn out the welcome.
And there's the reality that I'm one of the cheapest people I know. Turn out all the lights in other rooms, wear a couple of sweaters, time your showers cheap. Fall, with it's moderate (read: no need for either air conditioning or heating) temperatures means I get to stop cringing every time I hear a device kick on.
Look, I get it. Fall's coming, sooner or later, and there's nothing summer can do about it. However, my concern is the alarming recent tendency to compress fall into a two-week period that you can miss if you blink. Or were passed out due to heat prostration.
While I may not be totally invested in each of the four seasons, I'm pretty sure I want at least some representation from all of them.
If current weather forecasts are to be believed at least as much as election prognostications (yeah, OK, maybe a little more reliability is in order but, whatever), we should expect cooler weather in the next week or so. And some models even suggest a potential dusting of snow for the end of October.
Which means it's possible the coldest winter I've ever spent could be Halloween in Northwest Arkansas.
Commentary on 09/21/2018