The Long Summer

I'm a fan of global warming. The way I look at it, it's better than another ice age. That's why I love summertime. I know that some of my friends who long to live somewhere with four distinct seasons are not so fond of our Texas summers, which usually begin in May and last through September. But then they have never had to dig their cars out from beneath three or four feet of snow in order to go to work or just out for groceries. Nor have they had to dress in multiple layers or owned waterproof snow boots or down-lined parkas. What they know of winter is a light sweater or jacket, the kind one wears on cool summer evenings in New England. When I moved back to Texas a little over four years ago, I brought all of my winter gear along: my fleece sweaters and North Face parka, my L.L. Bean snow boots, my Aquascutum trench coat and wool overcoat. I'm happy to report that they have remained gathering dust in my closet.

This year has been particularly satisfying. We had our long hot dry spell, but we also had a bit of rain, and even some cooler temperatures from time to time. And the warmth of summer lasted through October and into November. My grass is still green and the flowering bushes in our yard are still flowering and feeding the bees and butterflies, and we are nearly halfway through November. All of this is perfectly fine with me, even though I sometimes wonder if there can be too much of a good thing. With longer summers and milder winters we get more pests of various varieties. More flowers, and also more weeds, although I'm considering reclassifying the weeds as native plants and cherishing their diversity rather than doing battle with their growing abundance.

A few years ago I went through a period of concern about the phenomenon scientists were calling climate change. And it is true that when we first moved back, the lake that is a prominent feature of our little community had shrunk to half its intended size; levels were down about 40 feet, and in the next couple of years fell another 20 feet, reaching historic lows. Conservation was not enough; some local communities were trucking in water. Yards were dying; boat ramps were high and dry; long forgotten villages were re-emerging from the receding waters. We were beginning to question the wisdom of our decision to move here. But then last year the rains returned, and now the lake has filled again and has remained full, and sometimes a little more than full, for about a year.

Of course, I realize the drought will come back. It's a fairly familiar pattern in central Texas. And with decades of population growth, clearly there will not always be sufficient water for everyone. Change is inevitable. But at my advanced age, I no longer worry that much about the future, certainly not the distant future. I figure that's the concern of the younger generation. And, to be perfectly honest, I suspect it's already too late for worrying anyway. So I'm enjoying the long summers while I can, and with the lake back, I may even buy that boat I always intended to get, a big one that will burn up some of that cheap gasoline we seem to have so much of here lately.