Here Comes the Sun…

As the Beatles sang, “It’s been a long cold lonely winter.” Except winter has just begun. Yup, it’s Day Four of my Least Favorite Season.

I’m a New Englander born and bred (shout-out to my fellow Rhode Islanders) , and I learned early that if the sun is shining, you must play outside, no matter the temperature. My mother practically pushed us out the door so my sisters and I could build snowmen, deploy ice-packs aka snowballs as weapons, and I honestly don’t remember what else we got up to, but I do remember this: After about 20 minutes, I’d had enough. I was just too damned cold!

Mom, with the munchkins back in the house, was no longer free to watch her soap operas uninterrupted. I knocked on the door, which Mom opened with a sigh. She knew what was coming. Fifteen minutes later, her bored to tears eldest wanted out. “Okay,but this is it. Next time you want to come back in, you’re in for the day.”

We probably both knew better and indeed, on it went throughout the day. In, out, and in again, where it was almost “four bells, time for Salty Brine’s Shack” a local kids’ show featuring the Little Rascals, the Three Stooges (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk), Popeye cartoons and the eponymous Salty.

The received wisdom tells us that the best appproach to winter is to take up winter sports, and we were a big ice-skating family – Rumford Reservoir to start, and then Sunday afternoons at the Brown University skating rink with friends. We also ventured to the wilds of New Hampshire for an annual ski trip with other Providence families.

To say my parents weren’t athletic is an understatement, but one does not three skiers make with a mere once-a-year foray onto the slopes. None of us became skilled skiers. So why did I gleefully anticipate those vacations to a place where my baby pink fingertips turned white and numb in the below 32-degree temperature? In a word…boys! Yes, roving bands of teenagers, some of whom harbored two Y chromosomes, claimed the downtown North Conway byways which functioned as surrogate high school gyms on the night of the school dance. We flirted, we joined and unjoined various packs, and maybe some of us even locked lips (sadly, not I).

I didn’t get the hang of winter until several years ago, when I determined I wouldn’t suffer that unmistakeable, bone-chilling frost in my fingers and toes. Perhaps I’d have enjoyed skiing today, what with battery-powered mittens and socks (which I just learned the existence of five minutes ago).

I’d gotten a new job a 15-minute walk from my home. Because of the routing of the MBTA, it would have taken me more than an hour on public transportation to traverse that single mile to the office. But I had figured out that the key to not-hating winter meant bundling up in the most freeze-worthy gear on the market. Boots and gloves that were rated effective to below-freezing temperatures. A hat, which in my case was coals to Newcastle – I’m a knitter, but I’d never crafted myself a single hat due to the vain avoidance of “hat hair.” Scarves aplenty (see above re: knitting) populated the shelves in my closet. I was ready for the lowest temps Mother Nature could throw at me, like the snowballs I dodged as a little kid.

And my scheme to stay warm worked. Often, the temperatures hovered near the single digits…and I threw back my head (well, not really) and intoned “ha, ha, ha,” as I arrved at work sweating as if I’d completed a round of tennis on a 70-degree day. So there, Mother Nature!

Which brings me to a most happy discovery, wherein I have actually acquired additional living space in my home, a 15-story apartment building.

Adjacent to the elevator banks, every floor boasts a small lobby featuring a table and chairs looking out on the streetscape through generously proportioned windows. While awaiting the elevator, I often wandered over to the windows. I don’t know why it took me so long to notice, but I eventually did discover that the area by the windows was as sunny as a summer’s day on Cape Cod….and just as warm! Welcome to my beach!

What had often been a tedious hour in the “office” corner of my living room paying bills, making doctors’ appointments, and communicating with some aspect of the health care system, had relocated to my very own private beach. The “plage d’Andi” is now open (meaning sunlit) from around 11-1. The hours of operation will of course shift as the earth travels its daily journey. And the best part – it’s not only providing Vitamin D via its yellow rays, it’s also warm, sometimes even hot, in my little paradise. And no, neither bathing suit nor beach towel will make an appearance at this improvised seaside escape. I wouldn’t rule out the occasional ice cream cone.

You may not have access to a sun-filled, cozy pretend beach in your residence. Or perhaps you feel the coziest by a snowbank. Bundle up and, if you live in a frigid climate, step outside for a refreshing blast of cold air. Or maybe even just stand in front of the freezer section of your refrigerator for a few minutes. . Or….visit the supermarket and hang by the frozen peaches for a while.

For us hot weather enthusiasts, there may be an unutilized spot near a radiator or oven. Bake a cake, grab a book, pull up a chair by the sun (by which I mean oven) and enjoy your day at the beach.

I hope you find your sun.