When mom and I travel we attract the attention of the weather gods. Perhaps we send a ripple through the cosmos because we always make it snow. We visited New York one fall and they had an early freak snow storm that coated all the branches and downed trees in Central Park. We visited St. Louis in the spring and were hit with a one day white out – fat wet snow flakes and rotten visibility for site-seeing.
Is Mother Nature telling us to stay home? Maybe it’s just the times of year we end up traveling, maybe it’s global climate change, or maybe it’s a co-dependent superpower. A power only invoked when we’re together and have not packed boots. A trip with a light coat turns into a battle against the driving snow and rising drifts. Cute little flat shoes prove to be thoroughly inadequate in a slush puddle. Umbrellas turn inside out.
Of course we may be invoking the gods accidentally by awakening ancient knowledge as we remark on the interesting architecture we see. Driving by old buildings we call out: Corinthian columns! Egg and dart! Romanesque arch! Broken pediment! Oriel window! Inside buildings, we see piano hinges and mortise joints. In churches we recognize the apse, the transept and the narthex (gesundheit!). These terms, called from a far-away art history lesson, begin to float before our eyes, a swirling cloud that is picking up speed.
When you’ve planned a vacation, you can’t let bad weather get in the way. Instead, we laugh hysterically as we cross the parking lot with snow blowing in our eyes, and remark that the rental car didn’t come equipped with a snow scraper.
The day we fly out the sun is shining brightly, but there’s snow in the forecast where we’re headed. Mother Nature knows we’re coming.