A Rare Opportunity

The sun is partly hidden. The skies are debating whether to clear or stay in that half-fog haziness that keeps everything feeling just a bit damp. The winds on the seaport are light, giving just a bit of a breeze to freshen the air every few minutes. It’s just shy of 70 degrees- absolutely delightful weather.

No one has a coat on.

In Boston.

On November 30th.

If I didn’t know better, I’d argue that I’m now working in San Francisco. The recent weather reminds me so much of the December weather in the Bay Area as I’d visit my mother for the holidays. Coming from a Rocky Mountain upbringing, to be able to go outside in a t-shirt and jeans on Christmas was such a novelty.

The same novelty applies in New England. Usually this time of year I’m swearing as I try to find where my mittens have run off to during the overnight hours. I’m shivering as I wait on the concrete platform for the train, wincing as that blast of air hits me as the train rolls into the station. And walking through Boston in late November to early December? It’s painful. The street planners made Boston a fantastic wind tunnel. In fact, it’s the windiest major city in the United States. During the winter, residents are reminded of this fact every day as they trudge to work.

Yet the night of November 30th, it was absolutely beautiful. It was downright springlike.

As Erich and I settled down to bed, we watched the Weather Channel to get the morning’s forecast. I knew a big thunderstorm was making its way east, and wanted a sense of what time it would hit. At only a couple minutes to midnight, it was 62 degrees with a low of something high 50s.

We slept with our bedroom windows wide open to catch the breezes. On November 30th.

It doesn’t get much better. :)