Tag: Nashville summer weather

Posted on

Rain, Thunder, and a Lawn That Refuses to Chill

Written June 17, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Last night, I did my usual weather-check routine—part hopeful planning, part meteorological gambling—and saw a full day of thunderstorms on the forecast. My wife has been saying all year, “There’s so much more thunder and rain lately!” but honestly, to me, this just feels like Nashville being its dramatic self. If Nashville had a personality, it would be that friend who wears flip-flops and carries an umbrella… just in case.

Now, my wife used to live in Ontario, Canada. Up there, thunder rumbles in early spring, then summer arrives with the vibe of a responsible librarian: calm, dry, and polite. You’re lucky if you can water your lawn once a week without breaking into a guilt sweat. We used to live in Oregon, too, where the seasons are basically “rain” and “not-rain.” People just accept that lawns go a bit crispy in the summer—no judgment.

But here in Nashville? It’s a lawn’s fever dream. Hot sun plus relentless rain equals unstoppable weed and grass growth. Our yard is turning into a botanical uprising. I’m half-convinced we’ll find a Venus flytrap next to the mailbox if this keeps up.

With all the thunder talk, I figured mowing would be a no-go today. But lo and behold—no rain when I woke up. I double-checked the forecast (because I’ve been burned before) and saw I had about an hour before the skies opened. Cue the Mission: Impossible theme music. I hustled outside and managed to mow the front yard before the first drops fell. Not bad for a guy dodging lightning bolts with a lawn mower.

Meanwhile, indoors, my wife has been tackling home projects on top of her full-time job—because apparently, she’s secretly five people. Right now, she’s on bathroom renovation duty. We bought a grout remover (a tool that sounds more dramatic than it looks), but she’s still figuring out how to handle it without accidentally turning the tiles into modern art. The machine needs muscle, and she’s being careful—removing grout little by little like she’s defusing a bomb.

I plan to tag in soon and give her a break. I know she hasn’t had much personal time lately—barely any reading for fun, and I haven’t seen her play a game in ages. She keeps saying it’s temporary, and she’ll get back to a better rhythm. I believe her—she’s a master planner when she finally has five minutes to herself.

So, today’s wins: front yard mowed, grout battle halfway managed, and a decent shot at finishing the lawn later this week (Thursday, I’m looking at you). Plus, I’ll handle some grout removal while she’s working. It’s teamwork… with thunder in the background.

Posted on

Rain, Hills, and High Hopes: A (Postponed) Summer Running Kickoff

Written April 21, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Last night, I was ready. I laid out my running clothes like a ritual sacrifice to the gods of summer fitness. My pre-run pastry bites were perfectly staged (because who runs on an empty stomach unless they’re being chased?). Today was supposed to be the glorious start of my summer running schedule.

Then morning happened.

I woke to the melodic sound of rain hammering the roof like it had a personal vendetta, and a temperature drop that made me question if we’d time-traveled back to March. So much for best-laid plans—and best-laid leggings.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Today is my designated running day. But Mother Nature seems to be doing interval training with thunderclouds. Ever since moving to a place where summer mornings feel like a furnace on “broil” by 9 a.m., I’ve learned to schedule anything that requires outdoor movement to happen at sunrise—just like my wife does with her daily cardio. It’s Nashville. Sometimes it hits 100°F (38°C), and that’s not a typo—that’s a sauna with streetlights.

But let’s pivot to my other nemesis: lawn mowing. Yes, it’s still chilly, and yes, the grass doesn’t care. It just keeps growing like it’s in a competition with the weeds. Now, mowing may sound simple, but when your lawn resembles a ski slope and your mower is a plug-in sidekick, it becomes a workout worthy of its own medal. Add in my lovely post-stroke body’s struggle to regulate temperature, and let’s just say timing is everything. I try to mow when it’s neither “frozen fingers” cold nor “eggs-cook-on-the-sidewalk” hot.

My wife, by the way, used to tackle that steep hill with a manual push mower. No electricity. No mercy. She’d split the task across the week like it was a strategic battle plan. Eventually, logic (and probably her arms) persuaded her to upgrade to an electric push mower. Still, even with that upgrade, the hill doesn’t quit. I now spend around 6–7 hours per week mowing, but don’t worry—I break it into shifts. I’m not that much of a lawn martyr.

Back to today: it’s mid-April, and yet the air still has that “early March in denial” vibe. Just a few weeks ago we were flirting with 85°F, and now I’m wrapped in fleece debating cardio logistics. The rain’s left the yard squishy, the kind of squishy that makes mowing feel like dragging a sled through pudding.

So here I am, toggling between my weather app and the breakfast table, waiting for a possible break in the rain. Will I run today? Maybe. The app promises a one-hour window, but I don’t trust it. It’s like a flaky friend who always shows up late… if at all. So yes—chilly rain, mushy grass, and my stubborn thermoregulation convinced me to do the only reasonable thing: I had breakfast, postponed everything, and officially declared tomorrow the new start of my summer schedule. Because sometimes, the best cardio move is a strategic retreat.