Pandemic Seasons

The End of Summer and Why I Now Own Real Rain Boots

Among the many pandemic purchases of the last year and a half— a great many crop tops and sweatshirts, approximately a pound of pom-poms and feathers and other crafty items meant to entertain my child, a new set of rifle paper notebooks for new projects, and Open Spaces organizing products that did, actually, incredibly, result in organizing— was outdoor gear.

At first, the gear was for Fia. For a few months at the end of 2020 she attended a nature school, entirely outdoors, and needed all kinds of long underwear and rain boots and coats that kept her warm and dry and happy for the all-weather program.

But quickly, it became apparent I needed the gear too. Because pandemic life is mostly outdoors, and Fia and I are two extroverts and suddenly being an extroverted parent of an extroverted toddler meant being an outdoors person, an all-weather, fine-with-wet-hair, fine-with-wet-socks, fine-as-long-as-we-could-commune-with-people-and-nature type person.

It was new for me. An old version of myself lived in terror of rain or even humidity, bemoaning what it would do to my hair, wondering how I could possibly feel comfortable in my body if my clothes were wet, my hair curly, my self undone by weather. By seasons.

That side of myself seems decidedly long ago. The pandemic has made seasons, weather, a part of my life in a way I didn’t think possible twenty years into living in NYC. My old life was cafes and new restaurants and friend’s homes. It was non-seasonal, a series of things we did that were mostly unaffected by whether it was November or August or January. The world was the world, no matter what.

It is not that way now. The world isn’t really the world I have ever known. I have my own set of perfect yellow rainbows and a heavier winter coat than I ever needed before. I have a weekly walk with friends that is rain or shine, snow or heatwave. I have the summer months— beaches and playgrounds with fountains, and travel sized sunblock, and I have the winter of sleds and snow days and making sure I have boots that the snow can’t get into.

I used to wear a pair of black suede knee high platform boots on even the snowiest days. It wasn’t that long ago, was it? Or maybe it was forever?

And I have writing, too, which is affected by the seasons now. Paragraphs about trees changing color and sun beating down on my character’s parted hair are making their way into my books, even more that before. My winter writing is sadder and greyer, heavier. My summer writing more filled with new, creative, exuberant ideas.

I don’t drive, so I have a daughter who can walk miles a day, and we arrive everywhere sweaty and tired but also okay and happy to be feeling out the change of seasons, the movement of the world, the fact that summer becomes fall becomes winter and then someday spring, even though so much else— the covid positivity rate, our anxieties, the stagnations of careers and life decisions— refuses to shift.

Summer is ending, now. It’s sad for a hundred reasons— we didn’t get to the beach enough and it wasn’t exactly what it was meant to be because of Delta and insufficient vaccine rates, and I don’t know, the end of summer is always a little bit sorry, deflating.

But the change in seasons used to pass me by, and now, now, it is a distinct thing. Our outside life requiring serious thought, layers, awareness of the changing of the leaves, connection to the actual world around us. It is worrying yes— last winter was brutal. But it was also beautiful— I hadn’t made a snow angel in decades. I hadn’t done anything, before, but tolerate the seasons, the weather.

Now they are spaces in which to search for joy, for fun, for warmth and possibility. It is easier in summer, to find what will work, what will make us all happy. In the fall, in the winter, it will be harder to find places to run around, sweaters warm enough for marathon social outings, paths in the park that my friends and I can safely traverse in our snow boots.

But it won’t be impossible.

I know that now.

Some Recommendations:

— This recipe is fine, taste wise, but if you have a kid it is miraculous, activity-wise. My three year old could do all the steps basically by herself (I pre-bought pie dough and had her use measuring cups to stamp out circles of it to press into muffin tins. She could mix the filling and scoop it into the tins and make the lattice top on her own. Cannot recommend enough for a rainy or snowy day activity with a kid.

— I get a LOT of compliments on my rain boots and they are quite simply some of the best shoes I have ever owned. Fun. Comfortable for miles long walks with friends. And hold up great on the rainiest days. Not a wet sock in sight.

— My friend Kathryn Holmes’ new chapter book series launched this week, and I was lucky enough to be in conversation with her about it to celebrate her launch at fave bookstore, Books of Wonder. The first book, TALLY TUTTLE TURNS INTO A TURTLE, is a total delight for your kids age 5-9.

—I am in the process of reimagining a book I’ve been working on for a while, and I’m using D’AULAIRES BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS to help inspire me, muse-like. If you’ve forgotten your passion for Greek mythology, but remember the thrill of it when you were younger, I recommend spending an afternoon or two with this book, which is both expansive and simply told.