I am sitting here in my house in Tarpum Bay, early morning, Friday. Brenda came by yesterday with some fresh conch salad and said, “Bad weather the next few days.” She was wearing her usual house dress, as do most of the women here—only the very young wear shorts. In fact, as we were driving toward our lunch restaurant the other day we passed a spectacular-looking young woman in very short shorts and a cutoff top and I heard Brenda mutter, “Cover yourself, girl”.
At any rate, Brenda and most of the women in town wear dresses during the day, or a skirt and shirt if they are being really casual. I think I’m the only one with shorts, except for the other tourists who wander around. Yesterday, Brenda was cold as well: there was an onshore breeze and some rain, and the temperature, though holding firm at 75 degrees, felt a little chilly.
But I’d been sitting here at the dining table watching the waves roll in and reading on Facebook about the exploits of my Northern friends who were shoveling snow and wondering about going out in zero degree temperatures, and I didn’t feel cold at all. Shorts and bare feet and tile floors and breeze—nope, I am just comfortable.
What I did notice was that it took two days for my clothes to dry on the clothesline, because even when it wasn’t raining the air was filled with moisture. And the power kept going out yesterday—just briefly, but enough to have to restart the computer and make sure I knew where the candle and matches were. I must admit that I went to bed early last night, as well, searching for a reason to curl up under the quilt and read.
Guess this weather is supposed to last through the weekend—grey skies, wind and waves, and cool tile floors on my bare feet.
I can handle it.