Bright blue sun, a chill in the air with the promise of warmth later on… deep freeze and snow predicted for tomorrow; like everything else, the weather is unsure of itself and so it recreates itself too often in order to please everyone. And only in Asheville can you anthropomorphize weather like that and not have people look at you funny. Maybe. We’ll see.
The kids are after me to make good on my promise to take them to see the gingerbread creations at Grove Park, and I suppose eventually I will unwind my legs from the blankets, close the laptop and comply. I want more than anything to lie here and hate the cold until the house grows silent and still around me, but Asheville won’t allow it anymore than a restless child will. The energy here, the certain slant of sunlight through the window, make it impossible to be miserable for long, and before you know what’s happened you find yourself lifting your face toward the clouds and breathing in the scent of home. The streets seem to roll out in front of you as you drive, dipping and disappearing around a curve or behind a mountain so you feel a little thrill of adventure-or on bad days, fear of the unknown. The sun looks so close you can’t help but reach out as if you could grasp it through the windshield and bring it inside with you, skin untouched by fire, cheeks warmed by the heat. This is December in Asheville, tricky and sly and so charming you can’t help but love it.
photo by jackey bradbury, asheville nc