Knowing weather, knowing place
We live in places that are ceaselessly assailed by weather, whether this is perceived as consistent and predictable or ever-changing. Weather is a condition of our being-in-the-world, an existential accompaniment to living in place. Along with everyday vegetation, the soundscape of birdsong or traffic and music, local ways of moving and talking, the taste and smell of local food, colours and architectural forms and places of gathering, weather constitutes part of a serially encountered realm, saturated with historical resonances, and contributing to a sense of belonging to place. As we inhabit these weather-worlds, we perform everyday habits that respond to regular patterns of rain, cold and heat, often unreflexively managing daily routines that accommodate the conditions through which we move, work and play.
In carrying out everyday tasks and ordinary practices, people habitually sense place and move through it, for the most part, without thinking, while possessing a competence borne of repeated practice. Weather is thus part of a âlay geographical knowledgeâ (Crouch, 1999) that informs how and when particular practices are carried out. Such individual habitual competencies and routine engagements with familiar space intersect with those of others. Through sharing inhabitation in weather-worlds, a sense of âcultural communityâ is co-produced by âpeople together tackling the world around them with familiar manoeuvresâ (Frykman and Löfgren, 1996: 10â11), strengthening affective and cognitive links. Accordingly, as Mick Hulme (2017: 27) insists, all such weather knowledge and practice âcannot exist separately from the cultures in which it is made or through which it is expressedâ. Critically, as Tim Ingold stresses, and is echoed by contributors to this book, weather âis not to make external, tactile contact with our surroundings but to mingle with themâ (Ingold, 2007: 19). Weather gets under the skin of our porous bodies: sunlight tans us, rain soaks us and we are enveloped in fog. And the everyday practices that support our bodies shape weather: transport fumes create haze and pollutants, aeroplanes alter wind corridors, and the food we eat involves intensive water and soil use that exacerbates drought and fire conditions. Awareness of weather conditions initiates anticipation, planning and practice.
This ongoing relationship is underpinned by recent research that shows that 94% of Britons admit to having discussed weather in the past six hours (Maloney, 2017: ix), commenting on the qualities that persist at any time and shape their activities. This everyday weather talk is thoroughly embedded in English language phrases: âI feel a bit under the weatherâ; âit was storm in a teacupâ; âshe stole my thunderâ; âhe was a fair weather friendâ, âI put the wind up himâ and âIâll take a rain checkâ. And besides being grounded in everyday conversations, weather-oriented habits become institutionalized through scheduled weather forecasts â television and radio bulletins organized hourly, daily and weekly that foretell of coming conditions via established visual and narrative media forms. Weather data is accessed over 9.5 billion times each day (AccuWeather, 2015), delivering localized forecast information to people using smart devices around the world. Part of daily routines, these predictive broadcasts help us to decide on imminent and future courses of action: whether to hold the childrenâs birthday party outside, walk to the shop now or later, wear a thick coat or light T-shirt. Weather forecasts further inform routinized practices at different scales in determining when crops are planted, yachters set sail and holiday seasons are demarcated.
Weather forecasting is itself expressive of a large, routinized operation installed to produce daily schedules organized to collect, analyse and disseminate forms of information. The emergence of the science of meteorology in the 19th century was primarily initiated to minimize loss of life at sea and develop enhanced measuring devices such as anemometers, thermometers, rain gauges and barometers to more accurately capture weather patterns over time. Since these times, technological advances have forged a vast, organized infrastructure that has progressively enrolled radar and satellite technologies, a systematic and bureaucratic infrastructure productive of routinized engagement with the weather. Analysis of weather has become a global endeavour, reflected in transnational systems of forecasting. Globally there are over 10,000 weather stations collecting surface-level data, 1,000 in the upper-air, more than 7,000 ships and 1,000 drifting buoys in the oceans and over 3,000 commercial aircraft measuring âkey parameters of the atmosphere, land and ocean surface every dayâ (WMO, 2020). Importantly, daily measuring is critical in understanding human action and impact as weather data becomes indisputable evidence of anthropogenic climate change. Accordingly, weather is a global phenomenon that is sensed locally. When checking the forecast on our phone, radio or national meteorology website, we momentarily glimpse the international network of weather that connects places near and far. Increasingly, these âglobalâ aspects of weather have become part of popular cultural consciousness.
Although weather pervades everyday experience, in contemporary times a battery of technologies and managed environments keeps it at bay and moderates its force. As Vannini and Austin (2020: 1) suggest, we undertake practices âthrough which we control, modify, endure, adapt to, enjoy, or remove ourselves from the weather-places we inhabitâ. Most obviously, the donning of wellington boots, hats, thick coats and many other forms of clothing is part of an everyday adaptation to weather, and these are accompanied by the shielding effects of umbrellas and parasols. These efforts to ameliorate the effects of weather on bodies have been intensified by climatically controlled indoor environments. For those who can afford it, central heating spreads warmth across domestic space in wintry months, with patio heaters extending heat to the outside realms of homes, bars and restaurants. Air conditioning cools air to minimize the sweat and discomfort posed by heat. As a consequence of these highly managed environments, for many in the Global North, the increasingly sequestered lifestyles of interior environments insulate people from the effects of the weather (Oppermann et al., 2018). The recent pandemic lockdowns have drawn stark attention to the inequalities in experiencing weather. We have seen news about many who are unable to seek shelter or are dealing with inadequate lodgings (Ismail, 2020; Levin, 2020). Keeping out of the weather and âsheltering in placeâ in comfortable climate-controlled interiors is primarily for those in the middle-class and white-collar professions. Russell Hitchings (2010: 282) explores how legal professionals working in an office in London were often unaware of seasonal change, so untroubled by the outside weather that they felt ill-equipped to negotiate a sudden cold spell in the weather, as the
smart shoes he habitually wore could not get sufficient grip onto the icy pavement beneath them and a professional persona was suddenly undermined by the necessity of grabbing onto railings and whatever else that was immediately available.
Hitchingsâ example contrasts with Susannah Clementâs exploration in Chapter 4 of the practical, nuanced ways in which mothers with children negotiate the occasionally rainy conditions of Wollongong, Australia. Clement highlights that when families decide whether to face the rain or shine outside, they negotiate external conditions by selecting appropriate clothing materials and articulate discourses of comfort wherein weather conditions are perceived as invigorating or uncomfortable.
Perhaps because of these routines instilled in daily life that inure people to variations and extreme weather events, and thereby disorient our âlocalâ weather knowledge, we are yet to adapt to climate changes to come. Yet increasingly, occasions are emerging in which everyday apprehensions of weather in place are dramatized through the acceleration of human-induced climate and environmental change. The advent of increasing incidents of strange weather in local contexts is allied to a growing awareness of floods, bushfires, heatwaves, droughts and tornadoes to consolidate a sense that global climate patterns are awry. Thus âclimate processes are imbricated with ecological and human processesâ (Clifford and Travis, 2018: 8) that exceed the abstractions of science. As Katharine Haynes, Matalena Tofa and Joshua Whittaker exemplify in Chapter 12, a small Australian town, formerly conceived by its inhabitants as a safe idyll, undergoes a total transformation as a bushfire fuelled by strong winds sweeps through it. The sensory stimulation that they capture in their interviews with local residents points towards the pervasive, emotional and embodied experiences of weather. Descriptions that account for the effects of the powerful wind on bodies and the heat caught in their throats evoke chaotic, immersive scenes and the stark reality of these extreme weather events. The scent of ash and smoke in the air left a community anticipating their fate, foretelling of evacuations and upheaval. These extreme weather events were watched by the world as wildfires raged in the Amazon, Indonesia and Siberia, and an excruciating eight months of bushfires in Australia destroyed over 19 million hectares in 2019â2020, setting an unprecedented backdrop for the ânew normalâ of living with unpredictable weather. In fact, the Australian bushfires were so large they created their own micro-weather systems (Badlan, 2019), producing storms, lightning and tornadoes. For over half of the Australian population, a long spell of poor air quality and the constant scent of smoke pervaded daily experience, and everyday routines were transformed through the constant checking of weather forecasts, watching for emergency services advice, the wearing of face masks and, for many communities, planning for imminent disruption.
Exceptional weather is nothing new, however, and frequently offers opportunities for overturning usual everyday routines and schedules, while also providing memories of times when quotidian habits were suspended. Folk memories endure of Londonâs Frost Fairs, staged when the River Thames froze, providing an occasion for trade, drinking and eating, music and dance on the frozen ice. Similarly, uncanny and rare episodes in which frogs and fish descend from the sky having been swept up by strong updraughts during a storm are part of the folk memories of particular places. We are seeing an echo of these folk tales as long-term weather events disrupt ecological balances: droughts produce conditions for mass fish deaths, and heat waves are so powerful that birds drop dead from the trees in which they shelter. While in the past, such extraordinary weather may have surprised, entertained or unsettled communities, it now urges us to forge stronger connections with the environments that we inhabit. This connection is notably and continuingly strong in Indigenous communities, as can be seen in the declarations of the Rights of Nature. Acknowledging the value of Indigenous knowledge, Ecuador included the right of PachamÄma (Mother Earth) in its constitution and in other contexts, rivers such as the Whanganui River in New Zealand, or the Yamuna River in India, have received a legal right for âpersonhoodâ (Youatt, 2017). The NgÄi TĆ«hoe in New Zealand are the children of mist and Hine-pukoho-rangi, the Mist Maiden, is their ancestor from whom their iwi (tribe) has originated. In this book we foreground a dynamic intermingling between bodies and weather, including nonhuman entities: trees, plants, rocks, bricks, birds, water, dolphins, ships and aeroplanes.
In Chapter 14, Sarah Wright, Lara Daley and Faith Curtis highlight how weather has been long understood as agential within many Indigenous cosmologies. They, for example, draw from the work of Warlpiri man Wanta Steve Jampijinpa Patrick (2015), they explain how âthe cloud thatâs formed after the hot air and cold air meet and interactâ leads to new understandings. Wright, Daley and Curtis explain that âIndigenous peoples [are] continuing to know and live with weather in diverse and placed-based waysâ. Since the colonial establishment of Australian governance and capital, they contend, âplace has been weathered in deeply racist, entitled and possessive ways across time and spaceâ. Racist notions of weather throughout Australian colonial history have played a strong role in choosing the capital. Aboriginal resistance against (post)colonial normative perceptions is at the core of Chapter 14, with the authors advocating for a movement beyond dominant Western narratives of weather.
Affecting both Indigenous and non-indigenous peoples, everyday modes of inhabiting place are traumatically upturned by climatic events. Such awareness, compounded by the connections with increasingly volatile weather in other places, chimes with local conditions. Mick Hulme (2017...