Worldbuilding
A fictional town’s weather matters less as “weather” and more as a set of habits. The rain decides where people park, which lane gets avoided after lunch, who leaves ten minutes earlier, which deliveries are always late, which bridge everyone trusts and which one they don’t. That sort of detail does more for a place than another tasteful paragraph about low clouds.
Once a town teaches its inhabitants to plan around flooding, drizzle, or the wind off the water, it starts behaving like a local law. And those small adjustments tell you more about the place than the forecast ever could.
Once a town teaches its inhabitants to plan around flooding, drizzle, or the wind off the water, it starts behaving like a local law. And those small adjustments tell you more about the place than the forecast ever could.
Weather gets more interesting once it stops being scenery and starts being inconvenience. A town where people know which street turns to glue after a shower, or which market stalls vanish at the first gust, feels lived in. Though I’d still want one or two residents who insist on ignoring it, because every place has that one fool on a bicycle.