One of the main reasons we moved to Georgia is the weather. And it's been just peachy. 80 degrees in September. 70 degrees in October. Lately, we've had a couple of 50 degree days, unusually cold, but then again, Gorham, NH, has 1/2 inch of snow today.
Dan and I are both (almost) life-long New-Englanders. I had a brief stint in Albuquerque, NM in 1979, and I hated the flat brown landscape and lack of trees. I was so homesick! A photo of a New Hampshire road with stone wall and autumn leaves almost brought me to tears. When I flew back East (over miles of endless lush green) and heard "Ba Haba airlines" on Logan's intercom, I knew I was home.
During winter after winter of 20 below and snow up to our armpits (when we were lucky), I thought snowbirds were wimps. I snowshoed, cross-country skied, even tried ice-climbing. Sunset's pink alpine glow on icy white peaks was one of my favorite sights.
So what changed? I'm not sure. All I know is, two years ago, on August 15, it was 50 degrees with a 20-mile-per-hour wind. We were freezing in our long sleeves and fleece jackets. What happened to the dog days of summer from our youth? You know: hot, hazy and humid. Global warming is a top issue but all I've seen in northern New Hampshire is cold and often wet summers and pretty dry winters. 2008 was decent, but we had three almost snow-less winters before that. Killed the skiing and snowmobiling, mainstays of the economy up there.
Anyway, Dan and I looked at each other on that fateful day and decided, we're out of here. We're tired of being cold. Tired of shoveling snow. Tired of dangerous driving on icy roads. And don't even get me started on the cost of heating oil.
It thrills me to think that pansies grow all winter here. There are two growing seasons (NH has one--three months). Spring comes with the calendar, not in June. To me, an 80 degree, sunny day is like a Christmas present. In Georgia, Christmas lasts five months.
I'll take it.