#attempted macarons; that was a tasty disaster (they came out thin and flat but super sweet and delicately chewy if that makes sense)

[kyuohki]

I haven't really needed a winter coat in a long while; it still feels strange to go out in just a hoodie in what should be a 'winter' month.

September used to be the start of colder weather. The start of the Fair "season," where you had to make sure you took a rain coat with you when you went bc it was highly likely that it would be overcast and threatening overhead. You'd regularly have to duck into the barns or pavilions to wait out the showers that would pass by.

Now, you dress for the heat as if it was still late July or early August. You bring extra water with you bc the fountains are suspect and buying them at the restaurants is nearly as bad as movie concessions.

October you had to bundle up for going trick-or-treating (at most you might just need an umbrella now); frost started this month, about midway. I remember in grade school having a competition w/ a neighbor kid on who could be out early enough to break the thin ice that had formed on the puddles during the night while we waited for the bus.

This is now what September used to be, but with less rain. The anchors on the news are giddy with delight after the weather anchor explains that the next few days are gonna be in the upper 70s, despite having just done a piece on how climate change is causing worse and worse droughts every year.

November was when you really started to bundle up. Frost every morning so I went out help scrape off the car bc the district thought certain middle and high schoolers lived too close to the campus to warrant a dedicated bus. There'd be a lot of very *cold* rain; sometimes it would come down and freeze in a layer over everything. The cherry trees in our yard were absolutely beautiful one year, the ice thick and glittering over every limb.

And you guessed it! This month is barely a memory of October. Rainfall varies, but still less than normal. The anchors still cheer when the rain is set to go away. At most, there are warnings for the passes in the mountains, and every year there are less people who know how to drive in the snowy weather up there, or even own chains to help them get through.

December used to be when snow was more likely in the lowlands; walking home from school was a cold trek, but the house was warm and filled with delicious treats for the holidays. Mom made a huge effort on her days off to make sure us kids had cookies and pies and hot chocolate or tea waiting for us after school. She also worked at a wreath company and when she got home, she would give me a big, chilly hug, and the wonderful smell of pine and cedar clung to her with the sharp cold air.

Now we are lucky if it rains or storms in the lowlands. It's colder, but I can count on one hand how many times I've needed an actual winter coat in the last four years.

I thrive in cold weather, so losing it is like losing a piece of myself. And it's heart wrenching to know that I've forgotten what the smell and feel of snow is.

it is november, and yesterday it felt like it was supposed to be snowing. in boston, november used a winter month, not a fall month. it is supposed to be chilly; rarely capping over 45F. it is a sweater-and-jacket month. it is a "maybe a scarf too" month. in my childhood, november meant blizzards and sleet.

it did not snow. tomorrow the weather predicts a high of 76.

i have spent so many years of my life studying the longterm possibilities of climate change - the culmination of capitalism wreaking havoc on the bodies of people, animals, plants - but every so often i am still shocked by something small and personal.

in a hundred years, when someone goes outside in boston - will they know the feeling of "snow in the air"?

i know it's a learned feeling, a sensation that maybe only longterm experience can teach. a few years ago, i was walking with my friend who had just moved up from the south. i said it smells like snow and she gave me this look like - what the fuck. i said it feels like snow too, which didn't help. she looked up to the bright blue sky and then back at me and then back at the sky. 12 hours later, we had 3 inches. you can just tell if it's going to snow.

except i can't tell, anymore. i stand outside in a tee shirt and watch my dog dance around a lake. we're in a drought and the skin of the water has peeled back twenty meters. the lake is tamed, quiet, puddlelike and sour. my pokemon go app warns there's a weather condition in my area.

my dog gets too hot from running and sits in the water and i want to laugh about his long frame and how awkwardly he sits - and i can't. some simian part of my brain is scratching the walls. it was supposed to snow. it was supposed to snow, but now it's warm instead.

during the last full solar eclipse, the dogs and the birds and the crickets went crazy under utter darkness. we laughed at them then, promising it will all be okay in a moment. but some part of me is still locked in that long night: some animal sensation.

something is wrong, my body says. i can't afford eggs or rent. i go outside to watch a sunset and listen to birdsong. i don't bring a jacket. allergies are killing me this season, allergies i didn't have as a kid. everyone comments that halloween has started to feel strange, offkilter. that it's hard having "holiday cheer." my body thinks it's april, and then it thinks we're in september, and then june.

something is terribly wrong, she whispers. go outside. it is supposed to be snowing.