A combination of listening to 'Anne of Green Gables' by L.M. Montgomery and partaking in the rampage of chatter that ensued as my Yoga class stepped into the Spring sunshine after class, made me contemplate the social convention of talking about the weather. Weather is something that is brought up in almost all conversations; during small-talk with acquaintances, catch-up sessions with distant friends and family and also during our own daily reflections upon happenings we found particularly pleasant or bothersome. For example, I cursed the winds the day they carried something large enough to hit and crack my windshield, yet today I'm enjoying the warmth that the Chinook winds often carry through the foothills and Denver.
Besides the excitement and horror which natural disasters inspire, we have been programmed to habitually comment on the weather for generations, spanning back to the evolution of man. Why is this? I suspect it is because in days of yor, before TV and
weather.com, when the weather had a profound effect on every day vitality such as crop profits and general health, they had no way to predict day-to-day weather fluctuations. Consequently, even the most modest changes in the weather became the talk of the town, and could stimulate both social unity and division. A sudden storm could ruin a farmer's crop but also provide the rain a gardener needed for their flowers to thrive.
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| If you witnessed this astonishing sight, admit it, you would piss yourself. |
Most interestingly, given the criticality of these uncertainties and their effects on one's quality of life, people naturally began cultivating environmental and bodily cues to predict the weather. Evolutionarily this makes sense and its something engrained into every animal on earth. Remember the reports about animals heading in-land prior to the tsunami in Indonesia, leaving some behind wondering 'what-the-shit?' An aching joint, the smell of moisture in the air, the reflection of moonshine off the clouds at night and the color of a sunrise and/or sunset all became ways to divine immediate weather changes. For instance, in the early 1900's if you lived in Tornado Alley and your ears began to pop you'd know to get your ass into the storm cellar. I find this all extremely fascinating but unfortunately in present day, with over 40% of all news casts devoted to reporting weather forecasts, humans have begun to lose this innate ability. Residents of Tornado Alley now rely on the news to inform them of potential danger; yet the people who retained some aspect of their ancestor's abilities are already in a safe place, having felt the sudden decrease in air pressure. Also, where are the animals? That's right, they're gone because they knew shit was about to hit the fan. This is precisely why I pay attention to my animals in the spring when Denver experiences frequent Tornado threats. If Dharma (cat) starts running around like mad and Charlie (dog) hinds under the bed, we all hang out in the bathroom for awhile and stare at each other. Humans had these very same instincts, but modern meteorology has beaten it out of us and we now rely on someone dressed in a suite standing in front of a green screen to tell us what we may expect for the coming week. Even then, especially in CO, they're often wrong.
So it's no surprise that we talk about the weather so habitually; it's something we've been doing since we developed a larynx and spoken language! When Mother-Nature suddenly lays the smack-down on your society it naturally becomes the topic of social recourse. Also the Human Mind evolved to worry about that which it cannot control, thus my 'Anne of Green Gables' reference. Anne became distraught over heavy rains that fell only days before a much-anticipated Sunday School Picnic; fearing they endangered her opportunity for fun and ice cream, justly so. This is a minor example but the point remains; in those times especially, conversations centered upon the weather as it was critical to food sources and a perception of general security. The main difference is that the conversation has turned from 'A sudden flash flood killed half my family' to 'I hope it doesn't snow tomorrow, it will make my morning commute hell.'
One Native American: 'How strong is your hut?'
The other: 'I'm not sure, but I'm about to find out.'
Like a flash flood in Arizona that suddenly turned a greatly anticipated adventure gone.
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