Friends hailing from parts more eastern or northern often are surprised to hear that we San Diegans largely do without those bulky and polluting additions to contemporary living, the air conditioner. The fact of the matter is, I sweated far more during my summers in central Wisconsin and upstate New York, largely due to the extremely uncomfortable humidity levels and the lack of cool breezes in those locales. Here along the coast, humidity levels can get high, but the breeze is almost constant, and so one merely needs to find shade in order to remain cool (in fact, even the calmest sea breeze can bring on the goosepimples). Living as close to the beach as we do, I like to tell people that we rely on the largest air conditioner in the world - the Pacific Ocean, just five blocks away. And given the area's complete lack of bugs, we simply leave our doors and windows open to catch the breezes, and thereby stay comfortable throughout the year without the use of rattling air conditioners.
Still.....there are summer days when the air conditioning can't quite keep up, either due to the intense heat billowing over from the inland valleys or due to the relative lack of breezes earlier in the day (the winds always pick up in the afternoon). And when mid-July rolls around, the morning fog and clouds of early summer give way to clear skies that allow the warming sun to beat upon our house throughout the entire day. And this is when the heat begins to become noticeable.
We've learned several tricks to stay comfortable. The back section of the house receives by far the brunt of the sun's force, and most in the later part of the day when the heat has reached maximum power. We've discovered that by simply closing the door to the back laundry room and "greenhouse," the vast majority of the increasing heat remains trapped inside, keeping the rest of the back section pleasantly comfortable. On truly hot days, the entire kitchen broils, so we've learned to shut off that section between 3 PM and 8 PM. Needless to say, the use of the oven or stove top is greatly discouraged during these periods - cold meals or the outside grill suffices. We have several fans throughout the house, from a ceiling apparatus to smaller and larger varieties of box fans. Water and lemonade is consumed in large quantities, and our wine selections make obvious movements towards the white. The front porch becomes a place of refuge, especially now that we've pivoted our chair and tables to catch the eastward flow of sea air. And, of course, when we begin to irreversibly wilt from the heat, we take a brisk walk to the beach and jump into the water for an instant dose of cooling. Our Pacific waters never exactly warm up - just yesterday, the temperature was still cool enough to take our breath away momentarily. But the surfers have begun shedding their wetsuits, and it's no longer only the tourists running into the waves. We gladly dodge the sting rays and stinging jellys (and the stray piece of human detritus) to enjoy the greatest outdoor pool in the country.
I feel lucky that Ocean Beach is resting at a rather comfortable 78 degrees while I write this, even as the nearby inland valleys reach the 90s and the deserts shimmer at 113. Still, the breeze hasn't kicked in yet, and I'm running low on lemonade. Time to hit the beach.
2 months ago
2 comments:
It's too bad you don't have a basement. Although your front porch provides a better view of your shirtless neighbor and the patchouli-scented hippie busses than the basement would. Maybe this will be the one week you two willingly finish the lettuce from the farm box before the next batch arrives. Stay cool!
Ah, yes - basements. I forgot to cover that aspect of Southern California living. No basements, for a variety of reasons, soil- and earthquake-related. Escaping the heat by descending into the earth was a favorite trick as achild, and remaisn my one sure-fire way of staying cool whenever we venture north to the sun-baked plains of Walla Walla. Not here, though.
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