November heat

There’s something about November—the world (at least in the Northern Hemisphere) getting ready for winter; leaves have finished running through their October particolored changes and are being blown all around by the winds; menus shift from salads and grilled fish to boeuf bourguignon and roasted potatoes.

The weather here in the District They Call Columbia has completely bought into the pre-winter schtick, with daytime temps creeping barely into the 50s, and that sharpish wind slicing through several layers of clothing. So I am deeply grateful for having functioning central heating in my house, with a thermostat, which enables me to come in from that cold outside, to a blissfully warm inside, no matter which room I walk into.

A long time ago I realized what a difference having heat makes on one’s outlook. We were moving from the house where I grew up to another one, which had been in probate and therefore the gas wasn’t connected. I went over on a December morning to wait for the PG&E guy, and in the hour or so it took, I felt like the entire world blew rocks. We’re talking Los Angeles, but in the foothills, so it was pretty chilly, and that house was…weighing heavy on my soul.

But within a few minutes after PG&E fired up the furnace and I felt the warm air through the vents—my spirits started to lift, and all kinds of things seemed possible. Nothing else had changed except the place wasn’t freezing.

So, every time I walk through the front door now I’m reminded again what a blessing this is, how fortunate I am to have shelter that offers this kind of comfort throughout this bleak season.