English weather is schizophrenic. One day it is sunny, the next rainy, and then sunny again. It just can't make up it's mind. Yesterday it was beautiful. Not too warm, but sunny with a mild wind. I spent most of the day in our garden, since this past week had been less than stellar. And yet today, as if God thinks English weather is his own personal joke, it's raining again...and cold. Three years and I still haven't gotten used to it. I've decided to seek refuge in a cup of coffee and piece of chocolate. Maybe that will help.
How is it that we may move from place to place, yet our bodies seem set on staying in their original climate? I grew up in a Mediterranean climate. Winters that were cold, but not harsh. Summers that were hot, but not humid. After leaving home, I've lived in a variety of climates and no matter how hard I try, I never fully adapt. When I do get to go home for a visit, my body breathes a sigh of relief as if to say "yes, this is where I belong."
If you can never fully adapt to the weather, then can you ever fully adapt to the place? Does my lack of stripping down to a t-shirt and shorts when the weather hits 65 degrees Fahrenheit make it obvious that I'm not a native? Or that the raincoat I had when we moved here would be laughed at by locals as it was not "serious" enough for the wet weather? I'd like to think I fit in here pretty well after all this time, but I guess I still don't truly grasp the instability of English weather.
Ugh, it's still raining. Time for another cup of coffee. But, on the bright side, tomorrow it will probably be sunny again...WAIT - maybe I'm getting the hang of this after all!