it's morning again in mexico

This is my favorite season in Mexico.

That may not be saying much.

If you search past essays of Mexpatriate, you will discover I have applied that description to almost every season, month, and week of the year. It is the equivalent of earning a gold star in kindergarten -- or, worse for an actor, a golden globe.

Each season here has its particular characteristics. Summer with its Wagnerian thunderstorms. Semana santa with its life-affirming Mexican tourists. Fall when the barcinos turn the surrounding hills into a passable impersonation of Davos.

But I have a particular fondness for these December mornings as the calendar slouches toward winter, if not Bethlehem. And it is one simple blessing that makes these December (and often January) mornings something special for me.

I am not very fond of heat. I have become far more tolerant of it after living here full-time for a dozen years. But I cannot yet say I enjoy it. Whenever I travel to less-tropical climes, I drink in as much cool weather as I can.

If I had to choose a place to live based solely on weather, I would want a place where the weather was consistently 55 degrees with overcast skies and drizzle. That may be why I thoroughly enjoyed living in Oxford. The weather was a true Mary Poppins -- practically perfect in every way.

I have never seen one of my perfect days here. But that is fine because I did not move here for the weather.

For about the past week, I have been sleeping with my bedroom door open to the patio. The temperatures have been comfortable enough that I do not need a fan sleeping on top of my bedspread.

This morning the temperature was 67 when I walked across the patio to the kitchen to brew up a pot of tea. I am now drinking it while I chat with you and listen to the village come to life. Birdsong. Buses gnashing gears. Cocks challenging cocks for territorial supremacy. What I call our morningsound.

I would enjoy those sounds even if the temperature was not as pleasant as it is. In the summer, I often wake up to days that start out in the low 80s, and the mornings are just as enjoyable with their combined heat and humidity.

In one week, I will be boarding a flight to Oregon to finish up some necessary family business that was left undone during my November visit. If I had the choice, I would not make the trip.

I was about to write that I will miss these cool mornings while I am gone. But I suspect Prineville will not surprise me with summer weather. Right now, it is 34 degrees there, heading to a high of 45. Nice shirt-sleeve weather. For me, at least. And there is no snow predicted. I am not fond of the stuff.

For now, though, I am spending the morning on the patio writing and reading.

My tea has gone cold. I need to head back into the kitchen to brew another pot.

It was nice chatting. I hope you are enjoying a similar pleasant morning -- no matter where you are.


Note -- Photograph courtesy of Chuy through Susan Fanshaw.