Tis the Seasons

It's cold, and it's raining. That must mean it's winter here in the city of Boston.

Or is it late autumn? Early spring? Just what sort of cold rain is falling today?

This seems like the perfect time to espouse my Theory of New England Seasons:


Most places you'll visit in the world over have got themselves pretty straightened out when it comes to seasons; Spring follows Winter, which followed Autumn, which followed Summer, which followed Spring, and so on.

Each place has its own charater, something that is unique to their particular progression of seasons. In Chicago they've got mild springs, and bitter winters. Northern Wisconsin is even worse, with very pleasant springs and very bitter winters. Keep going north and you hit Canada where spring, summer, and autumn all seem a lot like winter, and winter seems a lot like the surface of Pluto (the planet)(that's right, planet).

Then you've got the opposite end of the spectrum in places like San Deigo, where spring, summer, autumn, and winter all look exactly like each other: seventy-five degrees and sunny. What the weathermen like to call "nice."

I couldn't live there. It's too boring. "What's the weather like today, Lou?"

"Nice."

Everyday? Where's your sense of adventure?

In New England, that's where.

You all should be familiar with the adage "Don't like the weather in New England? Just wait a minute." (or, "ten minutes," or "fifteen minutes," depending on which town you were raised in. Point of fact, no matter which version of the saying you prefer it will never take longer than fifteen minutes for the weather in New England to change).

I've seen it snow in June (it wasn't really "snow" it was a dusting at best), and in April (a legit snowstorm! April 1st. Best April Fool's Day prank ever.) I've seen sunny days I thought would never end, in February (where's James Taylor when you need him?).

And it's always interesting.

Which brings me to my Theory of New England Weather.

First, we take for our example community some nominal, normal, ordinary town that is unremarkable in every way. Let's call it Normalopolis. Importantly, here, their seasonal pattern is exactly what learn as children: Summer for three months, Autum for three months, Winter for three months, Spring for three months, repeat ad infinum.

This is the community, real or otherwise, by which all seasons are compared. "Chicago seasons are just like Normalopolis seasons, except our summers are milder, and our winters are colder with more snow." is a typical statement (or would be, if people actually talked about an imaginary city called Normalopolis).

Boston, and New England in general, I argue, has seasons exactly like Normalopolis. Exactly, in every way. Maybe the winters are a little colder, but I'm not too concerned with temperature here (if you can't stand the cold, get out of the Northeast).

This is the first point: New England has exactly three months of summer, autumn, winter, and spring. Ninety days of each season, exactly (give or take a few days).

The twist is simply this: They don't come in order.

It's true. Try this fun exercise: Get out your calendar! Call up your local weatherman! Check the weather for every day this year! Place each day in one of four seasons.

June 26th was cold and rainy? - mark it down as early spring or late autumn.
January 3rd was sixty-five degrees and sunny? - sounds like spring to me!
It snowed on May 16th? - put it in the winter column!
March 15th it was raining in the morning, hot and humid in the afternoon, and snowed at night? That's a third each of autumn, summer, and winter!


When you've finished, go back, add up all your columns. What do you get?

90 days of summer
90 days of autumn
90 days of winter
90 days of spring

It's the scattering that keeps you on your toes. Where else in the country do you have to spend ten minutes running down your wardrobe before leaving for work?

"Ok. It's raining out right now, so I'll need waterproof shoes, a warm shirt, a rain jacket, an umbrella, my good bag, and I won't worry about my hair...but they said the rain will stop by lunchtime and it will be eighty degrees out, so I might want something light, instead of my warm shirt, and I won't need the jacket so maybe I'll just throw on a windbreaker now instead and just get by with the umbrella, and if I don't step in any puddles I won't need the waterproof shoes, but tonight it's supposed to drop down to thirty-five degrees, so I really should have my winter coat, or at least a pair of gloves and a hat, and my warm shirt again, and maybe my big bag so I can put my umbrella in there..."

And you end up going to work in waterproof shoes, a winter jacket, knit cap, with a giant bag holding your other shoes, a windbreaker, gloves, and maybe a sweatshirt, only to step outside and see that now the rain's cleared up, it's sunny, and locusts are blotting out the sun.

It can only be worse for girls who have to factor in skirts and open-toed shoes into the decision making process.

So with my theory you can expect ninety days of your favorite season to pop up and surprise you any time of the year.

I know what to expect, just not when to expect it, and that's what keeps me interested.

-t

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