Weather, memory and place
Have you heard of 'weather-heritage'?
I remember as a kid knowing that it would rain on my birthday in May, and that it would be insanely hot when school went back in February, but not always warm enough to swim at Christmas. Yesterday I sat in a t-shirt in the outdoor courtyard at the local pub for lunch with an old friend on my day off work; it was unseasonably warm for this time of year. In the evening back at home I cooked dinner with the back door open wondering, is it my imagination?
Looking at the stats, the maximum temperatures have indeed crept up incrementally since I was a child: a point of a degree here, a smidge of a degree there. Is past weather a form of memory? I started to think about this more recently because I stumbled across a term I hadn’t heard before: weather-heritage. At the risk of getting all academic-y on you this fortnight (I initially referenced the below quotes in APA7 then decided I didn’t need to put you through that), I wanted to share a bit about the study that introduced me to this topic.
Researchers interviewed people in southeast England about their memories of the weather. People described weather events that are often less common now, leading to the concept that climate change is putting these memories at risk. Researchers describe these memories as ‘weather-heritage’.
“The concept of ‘weather-heritage’ suggests that weather is so central to everyday life that it should be considered a form of intangible cultural heritage, and protected through this lens. Weather contributes to sense of place, and it is through perceived changes to normal weather that people experience atmospheric changes caused by greenhouse gas emissions.” From: “But they hardly ever freeze now”: Exploring weather-heritage, memory, and change in southeastern England.
I am intrigued by this concept firstly because I’ve just completed a subject called ‘Community Histories’ via my librarianship studies and am interested in the concept of weather as forming part of local history, and secondly because it gives a name to the nostalgia I sometimes feel when I think back to childhood memories and how interconnected they are with the weather then, without me necessarily realising. Simple, seasonal memories like sipping melting sunny boys from the school canteen in term 4, summer road trips with the windows wound right down and hot air blasting over my face, going to sleep in spring hearing rain belting down on the roof - something I haven’t heard in intensity for quite a while. Collecting hail in a cup.
Despite being increasingly disconnected from nature, we still base so many of our rituals and plans around the weather. We think and talk about it constantly. The study discusses how, over time, weather can act as a tool by which an understanding of climate change can form - it moves from being an abstract concept to something that is located in time and place via threads of memory. In the past I have assumed conversations about the weather to be surface-level and banal, like, ‘How’s this weather?’ before the conversation drifts awkwardly into small talk (just me?)… but after reading this article I began to see it differently. I began to see just how important weather - and our perception of weather - is to our cultural identity, our stories and to our connection to and understanding of the places we live. Is this why we want to talk about it so much?
“Inspired by a recent turn towards weather and climate within cultural geography and memory studies, Adamson and Rapson (2024) argue that weather is so central to sense of place and cultural ways of living that changes to weather patterns caused by anthropogenic carbon emissions should be considered an erosion of the right to intangible cultural heritage, and hence a component of that heritage (‘weather-heritage’).” From: “But they hardly ever freeze now”: Exploring weather-heritage, memory, and change in southeastern England.
I’ve decided weather-heritage is something I’d like to learn more about.
Tell me a seasonal weather story from your childhood:
Other things…
Candle time: what’s not to love?
I read this book by my favourite poet and it did not disappoint.
I enjoyed listening to this podcast episode about reading poetry, while immersed in said poetry book above.
In many ways I’m publishing this too soon, without having fully formed thoughts on weather-heritage. But then I decided to present this as a conversation starter, along the lines of, ‘Hey, how’s this weather?’
And that’s quite enough for now.
Until next time, travel light.
P.S. If you enjoyed this edition of Suburban Dreaming, a quick tap on the heart goes a long way, and sharing it helps these words find their people. Thank you, thank you.
In case you missed it:
About the author
Lucinda Bain is a contemporary Australian writer based in Naarm/Melbourne, whose work explores motherhood, place, memory, suburban life and the natural world. Lucinda is mother to three daughters – a role that deeply informs much of her writing. She is currently studying librarianship at the master’s level, which complements her identity as a reader, writer, researcher and observer of how stories locate themselves in both home and landscape.









Thank you, I hadn’t heard the term either yet, and yes it is such an important part of so much of culture … hey also (I’m on the recs again, soz) you might like emergence magazines latest issue, Seasons? Most of the essays end up on their website, lots of musing about…. Weather heritage, basically https://emergencemagazine.org/
I really enjoyed this, Lucinda. I'd not heard of 'weather heritage' but spending so much time interviewing rural communities with my Hall Stories project, it resonates with me. The impact of significant weather events marks communities for generations.
When I was a kid there always seemed to be one big summer storm, that brought such a deluge of rain, it drove the Huntsman spiders inside. The front of our hose were shaded by a variety of trees growing close to the windows: oleanders, fuschias, magnolias, silver beech. As a result they mainly seemed to appear around the cornices of our living room. Michelle (my sister) was terrified of them. I wasn't enamoured with their presence, but I paid them grudging respect. One Christmas Eve we went to Midnight Mass and it bucketed down during the service. When we got home there were 3 Huntsman dotted on the walls around our Christmas tree like 8 legged Magi, as if presenting themselves as gifts.