I was just now coming down the stairs from the rooftop and I caught myself thinking about the weather sadly in an almost indulgent, whinging sort of way.

I am dressed in a pair of boxer shorts (no more) and I am anticipating the weather outdoors and its effect on the temperature indoors.

My awareness could almost be construed as a worry as if a weather change could inconvenience me to pull on a t-shirt. And there is a small amount of truth to that.

79F/26C is ideal. 80F/27C is slightly a bit too warm. 82F/28C (and above) in the house seems sweaty. And anything south of 78F/26C just seems cold to where 70F/21C is positively frigid.

I’ve only recently come to notice that I live mostly year around in a very narrow household band of 12 degrees; and I have become sensitively aware to this. Here there is no heating or air-conditioning so opening windows during the right time of day; and so it is counting on the breezes, the clouds and the sun to do their job.

The Inuit supposedly have numerous names to describe the subtle differences in snow types. And the Japanese have many different words and phrases to give expression to specific yet ironically vague cultural states of the largely undefinable – wabi-sabi.

I do believe there is some merit in parsing the little things.

Life after all is in the details.


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