I’m shivering in Texas

I am not used to this cold weather. I know it’s not cold to the rest of the country but lows in the 30s and highs in the 40s in Houston, especially with rain, are misery.

I’ve been Houstonized. I moved here permanently 14 years ago. Winter is usually 3 days at a time in January and comes in no more than 4 waves. We’ve had 2 so far this year and it’s not even Christmas yet! This one started on Thursday and is expected to last most of this week, a very long stretch for us.

I once lived where it gets much colder. Winter in Ohio sets in after Thanksgiving and doesn’t give up the ghost until March. The lows dip below zero infrequently but when it does, it’s truly cold. I was acclimatized to it and prepared. Wool socks, hat and gloves, down vests and booties for slippers, layer upon layer of warm shirts, and long johns made up my wardrobe then. Now I have to think about how to put on enough clothes to stay warm.

And the way homes are prepared is different too. Southeast Texas homes are built to withstand heat with few south-facing windows, shrubbery covering west-facing windows, and glass that reflects the heat of the sun instead of letting it in. Designs enable air conditioning to work efficiently.

My home in Ohio had large windows that faced southwest, heating the house during sunny afternoons in the winter. The wood-burning stove kept the inside toasty warm. There is nothing like sitting in front of a radiant heat source like a woodstove to drive out the bone-aching cold that comes from being outside in the snow, or worse, freezing rain. My animals would lie around or under it, turning themselves to get warm but keep from burning as one turns a pancake.

I’ve often said that when it’s 100 degrees here in Houston and I feel like I can’t breathe outside, I just remember the time in Ohio when it was 26 below on the porch and I am content to move from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned vehicle to air-conditioned store.

But days like this weekend, I long for a woodstove and my down booties (long since discarded). Wool hunting socks have replaced the booties and a heating pad behind my back while in my recliner substitutes for the woodstove. Hot tea is again my best friend instead of the iced tea that is our national beverage.

It won’t last long. It never does. We’ll breathe easier here when the highs get back to around 60 and the lows in the 40s, our normal for December.

Until then, my teakettle is whistling.

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