I often wonder how Hawai'i became the anti-season symbol. Usually prefaced by beautiful, wnderful, etc. and then followed by ‘but’ and a song to the beauty of the good days of living in a fairly brutal environment with a predominantly ugly temperate climate. It seems to always come down to ‘it’s good for you cause the misery makes the good days sweeter’. Always just under the surface of the beauty of the seasons is a dog whistle to the spiritual superiority of those who suffer most of the year and the assumed lethargy of us tropical folks. Maybe lethargy isn’t quite the right word because there is also an element of over ripeness that I’ve come to sense. After all there is not the cleanliness of regular periodic seasons of death and that seems to always be a primary theme.
Sorry, what you wrote was all very nice but it pushed me, perhaps unjustifiably, into a fit of tropical grouchiness. The basic problem is people come here for a week at a time, usually escaping particularly ugly climactic conditions and determine that we don’t have seasons in Hawai'i. Correction, we have seasons and they are just as different to us and just as linked to the cycle of life. It’s just that each of our seasons has its own beauty without threatening to actually kill us or make us wish we were dead.
While our changes are gentle it still makes a big difference in the fall when we start to wear socks on the weekend and the October thunderstorms make dozens of waterfalls on the Ko'olau mountains. In the spring the sun is somehow brighter and the sky clearer but you still need that extra winter blanket because the early morning shift to onshore winds drops the temperature into the lower sixties. And the summer is hot, upper eighties, with sun, showers and rainbows leading to festive Bon dances at every Buddhist temple honoring those who have passed. And the heat of September is time for school and the wish for the October rains and waterfalls again. While different flowers mark each season.
So there, take that. . . With Aloha. . .