Part 2:
The discussion of art was nice, but we had gotten off topic.
I had news to share!
“Can I tell you something?," I asked to my budding artist friend. “Some news?"
“Good news?"
“Very good news! Let me set it up: you know that my passion is weather?"
“Yes, human weather. The changing conditions and events of your planet's atmosphere?"
“Technically, most weather occurs in the troposphere. But yes, weather stuff."
“Tell me, I can't wait," he said excitedly.
“I applied to get into weather camp. Actually, the top three camps. Months ago. And they've all accepted me! I have my pick."
“Wonderful! Should I reach and hug you? Or is it better to ask first?"
“Anyone who's helped save my life? Hugs forever," I smiled. “No questions asked."
He put his arms arm me for a victorious embrace, and it occurred to me, for the first time, that he was family.
I had news to share!
“Can I tell you something?," I asked to my budding artist friend. “Some news?"
“Good news?"
“Very good news! Let me set it up: you know that my passion is weather?"
“Yes, human weather. The changing conditions and events of your planet's atmosphere?"
“Technically, most weather occurs in the troposphere. But yes, weather stuff."
“Tell me, I can't wait," he said excitedly.
“I applied to get into weather camp. Actually, the top three camps. Months ago. And they've all accepted me! I have my pick."
“Wonderful! Should I reach and hug you? Or is it better to ask first?"
“Anyone who's helped save my life? Hugs forever," I smiled. “No questions asked."
He put his arms arm me for a victorious embrace, and it occurred to me, for the first time, that he was family.
“It's customary to celebrate? Should we eat food?"
“Sounds great. But our options are limited here, right?"
“Yes, now that your brother has gone strictly ... what's the word?"
“Vegetarian?"
“Rick is strictly vegetarian these days."
I glanced over at the juicer on the kitchen counter.
Ever since his recent accident?
Pineapple and kale smoothies were emblematic of his dietary choices.
“He does seem quite serious about it," I agreed.
Poor Dale now moaned often about the loss of pepperoni in his life.
“I'm hoping it's a fad," I added. “But it's funny. I guess some things in life you can't predict."
“Sounds great. But our options are limited here, right?"
“Yes, now that your brother has gone strictly ... what's the word?"
“Vegetarian?"
“Rick is strictly vegetarian these days."
I glanced over at the juicer on the kitchen counter.
Ever since his recent accident?
Pineapple and kale smoothies were emblematic of his dietary choices.
“He does seem quite serious about it," I agreed.
Poor Dale now moaned often about the loss of pepperoni in his life.
“I'm hoping it's a fad," I added. “But it's funny. I guess some things in life you can't predict."
“I have a question," Colin asked with some apprehension. “About predicting?"
“Sure," I answered. “What about predicting."
“You talk about it a lot."
“Weather is my thing. I thought you knew that."
“I think predicting the weather ... is a lot like paint-by-numbers."
“Really? How so?
“Plotting outcomes. Finding the patterns. Charting the finish to the smallest degree."
“But forecasting helps people. It can save lives, allow for warnings. It's important."
“Seems like a way to establish control. Instead of being in the moment?"
His voice rang sincere, quizzical. Searching. I knew he wasn't trolling me. But still.
“The study of weather is a science," I said, as if that ended the debate.
“Painting by numbers helps determine the outcome. Precise and disciplined. Scientific."
“Art shouldn't be scientific! They're opposites."
Colin looked taken aback at my outburst.
“Sorry," I told him.
“I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to insult you."
He's so sweet, apologizing to me. He did nothing wrong.
My notion of weather got challenged and I just saw red.
“Sure," I answered. “What about predicting."
“You talk about it a lot."
“Weather is my thing. I thought you knew that."
“I think predicting the weather ... is a lot like paint-by-numbers."
“Really? How so?
“Plotting outcomes. Finding the patterns. Charting the finish to the smallest degree."
“But forecasting helps people. It can save lives, allow for warnings. It's important."
“Seems like a way to establish control. Instead of being in the moment?"
His voice rang sincere, quizzical. Searching. I knew he wasn't trolling me. But still.
“The study of weather is a science," I said, as if that ended the debate.
“Painting by numbers helps determine the outcome. Precise and disciplined. Scientific."
“Art shouldn't be scientific! They're opposites."
Colin looked taken aback at my outburst.
“Sorry," I told him.
“I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to insult you."
He's so sweet, apologizing to me. He did nothing wrong.
My notion of weather got challenged and I just saw red.
And so I thought for a moment.
About weather.
What attracted me to it in the first place.
Thunderstorms!
The burst of sound and lightning and dark.
Sheets of rain smacking the house on a stormy night.
The chaos! The unknown!
How I felt it -- how I was feeling it -- in that moment.
“Josie?" Colin asked.
“You ... might be on to something," I replied.
The thrill of glimpsing a rainbow.
The warmth of the sun on a steamy day.
The first delicate snow of winter.
Weather, I'd almost forgotten, contained multitudes.
This was a conundrum.
Weather as art?
Painting as science?
Somehow I don't think these topics will get discussed at the Young Stars Forecasting Program for Teens.
About weather.
What attracted me to it in the first place.
Thunderstorms!
The burst of sound and lightning and dark.
Sheets of rain smacking the house on a stormy night.
The chaos! The unknown!
How I felt it -- how I was feeling it -- in that moment.
“Josie?" Colin asked.
“You ... might be on to something," I replied.
The thrill of glimpsing a rainbow.
The warmth of the sun on a steamy day.
The first delicate snow of winter.
Weather, I'd almost forgotten, contained multitudes.
This was a conundrum.
Weather as art?
Painting as science?
Somehow I don't think these topics will get discussed at the Young Stars Forecasting Program for Teens.