Weather Report

Well, it turns out that I had to wait until late May to experience the kind of Spring that Ella Fitzgerald seems to have enjoyed, in her time, weeks earlier...but it has finally arrived. Paris is finally worth singing about.

The sun has been shining down from cloudless skies for the last 5 days or so. It seems a magic apology from the Cosmos for the preceding 30 days of horribly unseasonable wind, rain, and cold--an apology I gratefully accept. I've been here in Paris for 5 weeks, rehearsing for an outdoor production of Aida. And, let me tell you, I have been OUTDOORS. Five and six hours a day, we have been working in damp and windy 40 to 50 degree weather. When it rained really hard, we would all run from the unprotected stage to take shelter under one of two tents nearby, huddling together against the rain (and sleet!) that would attack us at the flanks like some sort of meteorological battle maneuver, until the storm cloud passed. Most of the time, though, the sky just spit at us nonchalantly...and we would carry on working, wrapped in Polartec, dressed defensively in layer upon layer of perpetually damp fabric, runny of nose and low of spirit.

How quickly things change. This evening, I am writing from the round café table of my balcony. It's 10:30 at night and around 70 degrees. I can hear the percussive clink of fork against plate, of muffled conversation sprinkled with occasional laughter as my neighbors two terraces down enjoy a late dinner party. There are flickering candles and hanging laundry. Everybody's windows are open. It is warm and lovely, and I am not the only one who is happy for the change. The whole city seems reborn.

Reason demands acknowledgement of the fact that the bad weather may not be over. Crazy Springs don't just turn themselves around in a week's time. I may very well have to pull out the windbreaker again and set aside the sandals. But, the rarity of this year's "spring feeling" has at least taught me to appreciate it when it comes by for a visit--however fleeting--and seize the moment with both (gloveless) hands.

"You can't let the weather run your business" was one of my father's favorite maxims--and he's right. I guess you can't. We certainly didn't, during these weeks of rehearsal. We carried on, we got things done, we ignored the inky clouds and did our jobs. We pressed forward.

But, now that I'm leaned back in my plastic patio chair, feet up, unwrapped and unprotected from the elements, it's hard to ignore the sweet relief I feel to my core, now that I'm not working against an angry sky. It may be true that you can't let the weather run your business, but it certainly helps one's business when the weather's at your back.