By Cherimie Crane Weatherford
As the oppressive heat fades, our Spanish moss sways gracefully, paying homage to the queen of seasons. The air turns crisp, ushering in a vibrant tapestry of colors that paint the marsh grass with rich hues of amber and gold.
With each passing day, our sleeves extend, and hems fall longer, embracing the anticipation of the calmer winds that whisper through our charming seaside town. Change unfolds around us, reminiscent of the leaves crunching beneath our feet, as our beach-born spirits come to terms with the bittersweet, temporary farewell to summer’s warmth.
Frigid is a fluid term that means multiple things to multiple zip codes. The definition of cold on the east coast of Maine versus the east coast of South Carolina differs tremendously.
While much of the United States embraces the cheerful spirit of the season with festive carols like “Jingle Bells,” those residing in Beaufort, S.C., find themselves subtly murmuring the more somber chorus “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
We are far more skilled at sweat than shivers and tanning over trembles; this is not our most favored season. Yet, we rise from our beds with indignation, shuffling our feet as if trying to rouse a stingray from sandy rest, making our way to work, social gatherings, and the cold and flu aisle of our pharmacy of choice.
As all Southerners, we do our very best to maintain our manners, keep our scowls at a minimum, and avoid the one gas pump that requires hand-holding the entire fill-up process. Thankfully, the joy of the holidays is enough of a lifeline to persuade us to leave our toasty abodes.
Of course, there are things we enjoy about the less-than-gentle winter winds; they are just few and fleeting. Hot chocolate, traditional chili recipes, oyster roasts, hot toddies, and not sticking to our leather seats are delightful seasonal simplicities. Yet, despite it all, we have learned to endure the bone-chilling reality of temperatures plummeting below 55 degrees, an unwelcome torment we’ve faced with resilient grace.
We will overcome the early onset of darkness and find ways to combat the need to tell every stranger we meet that it is only 5 p.m. We will make our way to the abyss, the winter section of our closets, pulling out survival necessities such as light jackets, scarves, and boots with fur.
Our feet ache with confusion as our toes remain inside our shoes, and our skin pales as trips to the beach are temporarily unavailable. We will sniffle and sneeze through this momentary setback, knowing the scent of sunscreen comes shortly after the clearance sale of Valentine’s candy.
Be kind; those you meet are facing discomfort of varying degrees. Extend grace, as sometimes it is just too cold to chit-chat at the mailbox. Remember, this season of chill is temporary; soon, we will find ourselves emerging stronger, filled with joy, and possessing a newfound appreciation for the warmth of July.
Enjoy the slower pace, thicker blankets, and less crowded boat landings. Godspeed, my fellow warm-blooded Beaufortonians; this, too, shall pass, usually in a week or two.
Cherimie Weatherford is a long-time real estate broker, small business owner, wife and mom in beautiful Beaufort. She is the Director of Operations and Programs for the Freedman Arts District.
