To our east the greens and browns of the Florida landscape stretch off into the distance, terminating at the hazy blue horizon line. Or maybe it’s the sandy beaches of the Atlantic coast. From this distance it is hard to tell. More defined, the view to the west is of the aquamarine waters of the Gulf of Mexico laying beneath a scattered layer of puffy white clouds. 26,000 feet below us, an oil tanker works its way towards the entrance to Tampa Bay, kicking up a muddy wake that stretches back for miles across the blueish-green waters below.

Fifty miles back, the jetway we’ve just left in Sarasota is probably still basking in the pale Florida winter sun. The Charlotte we left to come down (and now are heading back to) was a frigid 30 degrees making the 55 degrees in Sarasota feel very pleasant. Despite our short turn time the Flight Attendants, my FO and I all managed to spend several minutes standing outside on the jetway steps enjoying the sunshine and relative warmth, laughing as we watched the rampers move around the airplane dressed in long pants and heavy winter coats.

And now the warmth is just a memory. As ATC clears us to a fix just to the east of Atlanta the latest Charlotte weather pops up on our flight computer. It’s warmed all the way up to 35 degrees now, which actually doesn’t sound bad when I compare it to the 20 degrees and snow we left behind in Dayton at 6am this morning. I let out a small sigh realizing that the “warmth” of Charlotte, like Sarasota, will be short lived as we will be heading back for Dayton almost as soon as we land and unload.

The plane wiggles its tail and turns inland on the new course. Out my window the waters of the Gulf fade into the distance and soon are just a memory to be rediscovered on my next trip down here. Until then I’ll just have to imagine that somewhere a warm jetway is sitting in the sun while nearby a tanker pushes its way through bright blue-green waters, its props kicking up a muddy path behind it.