The problem with trying to describe a place is there’s so much that falls beyond the limits of even the largest narrative and photographic frame. Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know my fondness for photographing parts of buildings. I like to take pictures of windowsills, doorways, and windows, and I particularly like to take pictures of the corners and edges of said apertures. Very rarely on this blog will you see an entire building; instead, you’ll see various pieces and parts. (If you click on any of the above links, you’ll want to scroll down to see the various images I’m talking about.)

My brother-in-law used to do architectural photography, meaning that firms would hire him to capture in images new construction or renovations to existing structures. When you think about it, it’s a daunting task to capture the shape and structure of an entire building…how much more daunting is it to capture the mood, nuance, and feel of an entire town, word and image being your only tools?

These days here in New Hampshire it’s been warm and humid. At any moment those of you reading this blog from far-flung sites on the globe can scroll down toward the bottom of my blog sidebar and see a weather graphic that gives a semi-current update on Keene’s weather conditions. But does knowing that the temperature this morning at 3:15 am was a mild-sounding 71 degrees Fahrenheit (22 degrees Centigrade) tell you anything of what it felt like to be tossing and turning in a blanket-free bed at that hour of the morning? Would it help if I mentioned that the humidity at that ungodly hour was a whopping 83%, the air a euphemistic “calm”?

There are some of you reading this blog who live in hotter climes than what we here in southern New Hampshire face in the summertime. Since I complained so emphatically last winter when I walked the dog in unbearably sub-zero temperatures, I try not to bitch and moan too mightily now that the weather is warm, the air humid, and everyone’s feeling sluggish. Many folks from Massachusetts and other parts of New England vacation in New Hampshire; in this land of summer cottages and RV parks, we get a lot of snowbirds migrating up from their retirement homes in Florida and points south. But if you’re vacationing in a lake-front cottage these days, you have recourse to said lake when things get too steamy. And even if you’re sweating your way to the top of one of our heart-pounding mountain-tops, at least there’s the promise of a cooling breeze at the summit.

When you live rather than vacation in a place like Keene, though, you have to tolerate her meteorological moods while dealing with the mundane details of daily life. I don’t live next to a lake; I’m not spending my days (although perhaps I should) sitting on a beach with a margarita in one hand and a fan in the other. Those of you who live in hotter climes generally enjoy the benefit of nearly ubiquitous air conditioning. Our modest apartment here in Keene, on the other hand, is not air-conditioned, and the a/c in our 11-year-old, 227,000-mile trusty blue Subaru doesn’t work. So if these days the humidity sometimes weighs heavily on our souls–if we dare to admit that some nights we lie abed naked on top of the sheets wishing that the perpetually humming window fan would please, please send some stagnant air this way, please–well, you have to spare us some sympathy. We’re semi-arctic creatures, here in New Hampshire. We’re used to burrowing beneath layers of flannel and fleece and wool, not lying draped and semi-liquified under pressing acres of warm, heavy air.

Even a sunny California guy like Shane admits that New Hampshire is humid. Los Angeles and other near-the-ocean cities have the benefit of seabreezes, a phenomenon I once heard a San Diego weatherman refer to as “Mother Nature’s air conditioning.” Here in New Hampshire, again, the air has been calm, heavy, and inert. These days that mood is contagious, the option of going to an air-conditioned movie theatre feeling like both a blessing (ah, cool air!) and an act of exertion: man, that film was exhausting!

These days elck and several spiritually minded bloggers have started an email list for folks interested in Literary Approaches to the Unorthodox Pursuit of Enlightenment. One of the tantalizing ideas buzzing through the inboxes of said LAUPEs is the idea of holding a face-to-face retreat of like-minded bloggers. As various potential sites are being bandied about by members of this international and eclectic group, lovely Leslee suggested that humble Keene, NH be considered as a potential site for said meet-up “since Lorianne has been relentlessly describing her neck of the woods as heaven on earth.” I must admit, I love it here in Keene, and the thought of such an illustrious group of bloggers descending upon my town is a delight: after kicking myself for missing Shane’s brief breeze through town, I relish the fantasy of hiking Mt. Monadnock, touring old cemeteries, visiting local pubs, and even packing the walls of our tiny Zen Group with the likes of Cassandra or Tish or Anne. If nothing else, imagine the joyous photos we’d take of sun-drenched windowsills, doorways, and windows, all of them filled with smiling-faced and enlightened Vernacular Bodies.

But before you pack your bags for a Keene retreat, keep in mind that the weight of heaven-on-earth can be heavy. Even celestial clouds can bake in summer’s sun, and clouds themselves are mostly moisture, a polite euphemism for the the dreaded “humidity.” The road to heaven–or to Keene, NH–can be uncomfortable at times: be sure the a/c in your car is working. Even if you can stomach the thought of withstanding the Zen Mama’s voluminous outpourings of Hot Air, be forewarned that Keene gets her share of heavy weather.

    This post is my contribution to the Ecotone biweekly topic Weather & Place. Anyone who feels like blogging their favorite place-based weather stories–and we all have them–should consider posting a link on Ecotone, another meeting place for cooler-than-cool like-minded bloggers.