by David D. Horowitz
Rain pours while I walk home from the bus stop this mid-March afternoon, so once home I change from my damp socks into dry ones. I want to feel comfortable running errands after working downtown all day. Ahhh, that feels better.
Soon I learn it often rains in this city during early spring, so I buy a dark green rainproof jacket and waterproof hiking boots and wear them often. I pay more attention to weather patterns and dress accordingly. I notice how the sun emerges at around 1 or 2 p.m. on spring afternoons, warming the air considerably. Consequently, I “layer”: I wear a cotton shirt over a T-shirt beneath a thick woolen sweater and my green jacket. I start making a habit of removing my jacket when the temperature surpasses sixty degrees Fahrenheit.
My dressing habits change. Indeed, I often carry an extra pair of thick cotton socks in my new backpack. I also study the weekly weather report on a news website every Sunday and Thursday. I walk more this spring. I observe how tree leaves grow green, especially beneath the lampposts. The leaves there are much more luminous and large than leaves elsewhere! I never noticed that before.
One day, I must admit, I remove my raincoat, but within minutes the weather turns blustery and chilly, and a drizzle coats the streets and sidewalks. I develop a cough and soon catch a terrible cold and have to miss four days of work. My desk bears a mountain of tasks when I return.
Now I wear a scarf—plain black and soft—whenever it drops below sixty-five degrees. I often wear gloves when I ride the city bus, and I wash my hands at least once every two hours. I strive to minimize the number of colds I catch.
I realize my habits haven’t merely changed. They have been transformed. Indeed, I have been transformed.
Look at that Steller’s Jay on that chestnut branch over there—about fifteen feet from the lamppost above the drugstore time-and-temperature sign. What beautiful wings!