Summer in parts north
It was such an anomaly that it made the national news: the high temperature in Anchorage Alaska on Monday was 86 degrees, in Honolulu, 84. Everyone was being cautioned to remember their sunscreen as they hit the beaches in their swimsuits instead of their jeans. It didn't last, of course; but they had a high of 81 on Tuesday before they lost the unusual warm sunshine. Wednesday, yesterday, was 71 degrees with a note that that was seven degrees above the norm. That means that the normal temperature for Monday would have been maybe 65 instead of 86 degrees.
What a treat for those who live through so much cold! Other things might be forgiven for coming to a halt so that everyone could hit the sun, knowing that this was a rare moment indeed.
I thought of a Ray Bradbury story about a small colony on a planet where it always rained. I think it was called "All of Summer in a Day." The scientists were predicting that the rainclouds would break and the sun would shine through, just for a short while. The setting was a classroom full of kids who only knew about sunshine from storybooks, like people in the tropics who read about snow but have never experienced it. It's a little hard for them to imagine what it actually feels like.
There's a boy in that story who is being teased, it appears that perhaps he is often teased. He is insisting that the sun WILL come out, and they think he's full of it--the teachers are not ready to declare that the devoutly desired event will in fact occur. They are afraid of disappointment. The boy is stuffed into a closet and locked in by the other kids to make him shut up, and then the teachers are distracted by the sun striking the window. Everyone bursts out the doors to run madly and gloriously all over the grounds, arms thrown wide and faces raised to soak up the miraculous warmth. Then the raindrops begin to plop again, and soon the normal downpour is in full swing.
As they troop back indoors, dejected, someone remembers the boy in the closet, and, shamefaced, they let him out. He has missed the golden hour, he, the only one sure that it would come, shoved away and pounding unheard on the locked door as they forgot him in the fulfillment of his certainty. On this world, they may never see the like again for years and years.
It's a poignant story. I thought of it because of how unusual and how brief this Alaskan experience of summer heat and sun was. It's more likely to recur than the sunbreak in Bradbury's story, but it made me hope that everyone possible had a chance to see and feel it. Hospital patients, residents traveling elsewhere, others for various reasons beyond their control, missed it.
A day in southern California that was sunny and 86 degrees, so what. A day in Arizona, that would be a break in August. So much of our perception is the perspective of what's normal for our place and time. We can take for granted things that aren't ordinary at all: God's love for us, his individual care, and the gospel. The love of our family, our friends. So many blessings that we stop seeing when the rain keeps pounding on us and wears us out.
Soak up and take in the sunshine that comes. It can get us through the gloom of other, less glorious days.
What a treat for those who live through so much cold! Other things might be forgiven for coming to a halt so that everyone could hit the sun, knowing that this was a rare moment indeed.
I thought of a Ray Bradbury story about a small colony on a planet where it always rained. I think it was called "All of Summer in a Day." The scientists were predicting that the rainclouds would break and the sun would shine through, just for a short while. The setting was a classroom full of kids who only knew about sunshine from storybooks, like people in the tropics who read about snow but have never experienced it. It's a little hard for them to imagine what it actually feels like.
There's a boy in that story who is being teased, it appears that perhaps he is often teased. He is insisting that the sun WILL come out, and they think he's full of it--the teachers are not ready to declare that the devoutly desired event will in fact occur. They are afraid of disappointment. The boy is stuffed into a closet and locked in by the other kids to make him shut up, and then the teachers are distracted by the sun striking the window. Everyone bursts out the doors to run madly and gloriously all over the grounds, arms thrown wide and faces raised to soak up the miraculous warmth. Then the raindrops begin to plop again, and soon the normal downpour is in full swing.
As they troop back indoors, dejected, someone remembers the boy in the closet, and, shamefaced, they let him out. He has missed the golden hour, he, the only one sure that it would come, shoved away and pounding unheard on the locked door as they forgot him in the fulfillment of his certainty. On this world, they may never see the like again for years and years.
It's a poignant story. I thought of it because of how unusual and how brief this Alaskan experience of summer heat and sun was. It's more likely to recur than the sunbreak in Bradbury's story, but it made me hope that everyone possible had a chance to see and feel it. Hospital patients, residents traveling elsewhere, others for various reasons beyond their control, missed it.
A day in southern California that was sunny and 86 degrees, so what. A day in Arizona, that would be a break in August. So much of our perception is the perspective of what's normal for our place and time. We can take for granted things that aren't ordinary at all: God's love for us, his individual care, and the gospel. The love of our family, our friends. So many blessings that we stop seeing when the rain keeps pounding on us and wears us out.
Soak up and take in the sunshine that comes. It can get us through the gloom of other, less glorious days.
PBS' Wonderworks series combined the Bradbury story with something else to make an hour. Remembering it visually makes it solid, they did it so well. Words By Heart, one of the most amazing stories ever, came from that series too.
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