On living in a hard climate

I was just outside tonight, in the last light of dusk, at 9:17 pm, listening to the frogs, the running streams, and the birds chirping, and reflecting on many things: family, property, the expense of maintaining the view – cutting grass, cutting trees, sitting in a chair with three layers of insulation at the end of May, finally going inside when the cold could be endured no longer, and I wondered how we live in this barbarous climate. I took refuge in my house, an oasis of warmth, and reached for the computer to blog.

How is it we are persuaded that global warming is a problem?

A friend was chatting with me on the phone today. He has a house on the Delaware shore, to which he escapes from Washington DC in the summer. Temperature there today at its highest was  23C.. Temperature later this week will be 28C. Ours will crawl along at 23C, but cold in the evening. So cold you do not want to linger outside immobile in a chair for more than the length of a short whiskey, even clothed in an overshirt and a nylon jacket. 12C is chilly.

How did we ever become persuaded that warmth was a problem? How come so many otherwise rational people become imbued with the notion that heat is a problem? What are these titanic forces of fashion that shape our intellectual climate? That constrict or thinking to ignore the obvious. That sends that avatar of intellectual fashion, Desmond Tutu, to Fort McMurray to preach against oil sands extraction?

I confess tonight, as I gaze out on land where the ice goes out of the lake in late March, that I have no satisfactory answer.


If you are inclined to read a scientist on this matter, I refer you to Dr. Daniel Botkin.