The scoffing sun is at it again. He hasn't even got his hat
on. In Israel, he is the only one without a hat, spilling his
rays enthusaistically all over streets and deserts, beaches
and fields.
In winter he plays hide and seek. He is never where you
expect him, but he always turns up when you are wearing a
winter coat. He thinks that's funny.
The serious people who weathercast try to outguess him, but
he is cleverer than they. Someone once pointed out that no
matter how bad the weather, there is always one ray of sun
per day. You just have to catch it . . .
Sometimes he peeks out from behind a cloud, winks silently
and hides again. Sometimes he wants more attention, so he
jumps at you, shouting, "Boo!" That's when you forget your
coat on the bus. At other times, he creeps at you and goes
for your ankles like a kitten.
"How did I get sunburnt?" you wonder. "I didn't notice the
sun."
Serious people tell you winter starts at a certain date and
ends at a certain date. Fashion conscious ladies tell you in
which months you are supposed to wear winter clothes. But the
sun doesn't like to be pinned down to schedules and
calendars. He teases everyone by disappearing during Succos
and coming back for Chanukah.
Some winters, he outlives his welcome and gets very annoying -
- though in a charming way. Yes, we want rain, but just look
at this glorious sunshine. Birds and plants get confused,
like the almond tree. Is it spring? Did we miss something?
Then the sun gets offended and disappears for such a long
time that you begin to despair of ever seeing him again.
After picnicking on Chanukah, you curl up next to the
radiator on Pesach.
This is so confusing that I don't know whether I have hay
fever or just a cold. I sneeze anyway.
And just when you were losing hope, there he comes: BOO! Heat
wave! You put your winter clothes away. Two days later, you
are freezing again.
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
"I don't know what to wear!" you wail.
Happily, fashion conscious ladies will tell you the code:
April is Spring: light clothes.
"But I'm cold!"
"What has that got to do with it?"
How are we supposed to teach our children about the seasons?
The scoffing sun listens to nobody.
Golden, warm and mischievous, he reminds me of my daughter
Chanale.
