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There are evenings that make your heart beat faster – not because of balmy summer nights, but because of the announcement of an Atlantic low-pressure system. When meteorologists talk about storm fronts that will “properly shake things up,” a sense of anticipation grows in me that others can hardly (if at all) relate to. While many dream of sunshine in November, I celebrate the return of wind, rain, and cold.
MY SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT LOVE OF WEATHER
I admit it: I live in an upside-down world. When the sky darkens and the first drops tap against the windows, something inside me starts to glow. This reversal of all expectations is not a quirky whim, but a conscious choice for the intensity of the elements.
Bad weather is honest weather. It pretends nothing, is unfiltered, raw, direct. The wind steals my breath, the rain creeps through every seam, the cold stiffens my hands – and that is exactly where its beauty lies. In these moments, nature becomes tangible, non-negotiable, real.
Bad weather is honest weather, says our author Susa Schreiner. Photo: Canva
STORM IN FULL FORCE – A VACATION IN A LOW-PRESSURE AREA
One of my most impressive vacations took place a few years ago in early November in northern Italy. The weather forecast: miserable. Instead of a campsite, we chose a small holiday home – with a wood-burning stove and panoramic window. But cancel? Never.
When we arrived, the sun was shining, of course. Slightly irritated, I came to terms with the mild autumn afternoon – and waited for the low-pressure system. The next morning it was there. And it stayed. For a whole week.
Our landlady wrote to us, worried, saying she was sorry about the weather. I replied that everything was wonderful – typing the message with numb fingers while my husband helped me pull off my stiff, frozen cycling gloves. Before that, we had climbed 1,000 vertical meters in the rain, wrapped in silence and fog. No traffic, no sound except breathing, rain, and the rustling of wet leaves.
At the top, under a dense fir tree, I pulled on a dry shirt and drank hot tea. Happiness in that moment was not an idea, but something tangible. My husband and I exchanged conspiratorial glances. We had experienced something no wellness hotel could ever offer.
The descent was a baptism by the elements. Water squirted out of our shoes, our fingers were so numb that I needed help getting undressed. And we laughed – loudly, happily, like children.
In rough weather, the elements become tangible and perceptible for Susa. Photo: Canva
HEIDI, MY ACCOMPLICE FOR SNOW, RAIN, AND FOG
Some adventures are best shared with someone who doesn’t read weather apps. In my case: Heidi, a 45-kilo Swiss dog with a heart of gold and stoic calm.
On one of those days when the rain fell endlessly and fog banks clung to the mountains, I felt almost magically drawn outside. My husband waved it off, friends wisely didn’t respond to my “Do you have time today?” messages. Only Heidi was ready.
We trudged off – rain, snow, wind, all at once. Fog enveloped us, Heidi led the way, alert and confident. When she stops, I know there is life around us, even if I can’t see it yet. At the summit, we share a treat. And when she later hops expectantly at the garden gate at home, I know: she loves this weather too.
LONGING FOR A SNOWSTORM – MY VERY PERSONAL WEATHER HAPPINESS
Winter can come. And if the old mullein readers are right, it will be snowy. My physiotherapist – himself a snowstorm lover – recently predicted it to me with shining eyes.
I wish for winters like in the past: with storms, snow, and everything that comes with them. When thick flakes once fell on my birthday at the end of November, friends wrote: “Today is your day – Susa weather!” And indeed, up on the slope, forced into a crouch by the storm, I felt exactly where I belong.
BLUE SKY? BORING!
Many see the darkness of winter as a lack – I see it as depth. The blue sky? Pretty, yes. But a bit one-dimensional. Always blue, blue, blue. Darkness, on the other hand, plays in countless shades.
In Norway, where it becomes almost tangible in December, darkness reveals itself in tones from gray to deep black, in nuances that don’t exist in any color chart. A journey on the coastal ferry through these winter nights is still on my list. Not out of wanderlust, but out of a longing for authenticity – for a world beyond constant electric lighting.
Bad weather allows no distraction; only the moment counts. Photo: Canva
THE PARADOX OF INTENSITY
I also love summer and the heat. But while summer feelings are often fleeting like fireflies on warm evenings, winter experiences burn themselves in. They stay. Perhaps because they force us to be present.
Bad weather tolerates no distraction. No scrolling, no half-heartedness. When storm and snow rage around me, only the moment matters. Only the breath. Only the feeling of being alive.
SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO GET PROPERLY SOAKED
These lines are my love letter to the dark season. And a quiet call to action: put on the rain jacket, fill the thermos, and go outside – especially when it’s most uncomfortable.
You’ll be surprised what you find out there: not a gray world, but a world full of depth, silence, and clarity. A world where every step counts.
Because sometimes you have to get properly soaked to understand what it truly means to be alive.