'Weather' You Like It or Not

As we get closer to (hopefully) buying a home, I can't help but think about the things I'll miss about our first little apartment. Such as its closeness to my work (we're talkin' literally three blocks here), its abundance of natural light, the walks the husband and I took around its city blocks admiring (and at times critiquing) the downtown architecture and the overall simplicity of our lives while living there. 

Granted, these things are far fewer in number than the things I won't miss about our first little apartment. Such as the swarms of boxelder bugs, the cramped closet space, the ghetto neighborhood, the smelly laundromat, the outdated fixtures, the drafty crevices, the ear-deafening heating/cooling system and the tiny dining area. The list could go on and on.

But probably at the top of list of things I will miss is this: the view from outside our bedroom window.

Minus the unfortunate wires that weave through its limbs, our massive walnut tree is a sight to behold. It sits in our neighbor's neglected backyard, home to a clowder (yes, clowder) of wild cats who have provided me with quiet entertainment a number of times now.

We chose an apartment on the top floor for several reasons: no noisy neighbors overhead, no 'Peeping Toms' at the blinds and mandatory stair-climbing exercise (truth be told, the husband's actually not much of a fan of that last one). But little did I know that I would end up loving the view the mostest.

Seeing it change from full bloom (for lack of a better term) in summer to naked in winter and now noticing little 'bean-sprouts' (as I referred to them yesterday much to the husband's amusement) starting to form is quite satisfying. Just like the walnuts it dropped last fall, free for the taking. (Or at least I would assume so... we may have innocently committed nut-theft.)

I can only hope that our future home will have such lush and beautiful vegetation. The 'house snobbery' the husband claims I possess has expanded to include mature trees as a requirement. And if one could be right outside my window, I wouldn't complain. Throw in a waterwheel in the summer, a wind chime in the fall and chirping frogs/crickets in the spring, and I'm sure I'd be one happy camper.

Which is why it always confuses me when people complain about the weather. Sure, it's unpredictable and sure winter seems long sometimes, but we live in Utah. Get used to it.

I, for one, love the seasons. Not only do they provide variety, they also seem to perfectly chart the passing of time. The husband and I agree that holidays wouldn't quite be the same without their accompanying weather. I mean, who doesn't love finding Easter eggs in the new green growth of spring, or baking in the hot sun at the swimming pool, or jumping in cool piles of crisp autumn leaves or waking up to fresh snowfall on Christmas morning?

Palm trees and a temperate climate year-round sounds pretty boring to me. After all, we wouldn't know the good without the bad, no? Or in other words, we wouldn't appreciate the warmth if we didn't know the cold.

And though I sometimes fall into grumbling upon having to scrape the snow off my windshield for the ump-teenth time or claiming that I have contracted heat stroke at the peak of summer's swelter, I really can't justify not loving Utah and it's weather.

Don't get me wrong, making small talk about weather is right up there with 'cruel and unusual punishment' in my book. Just know that I'm pretty dang pleased with my location in life. Regardless of the unexpected flurries and soggy-hair showers that seasons may bring.