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One beautiful week
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One beautiful week
 Happy Fall, everyone. Sunday was the first day, and wasn’t it beautiful? Hasn’t the past week been beautiful? I’ve been trying to make up all the yard I lost to the summer’s endless rains and permasquelch. I wonder what people who live in Vermont would think if they visited here and were told this was gorgeous fall weather. I’m not sure they get highs near 90 degrees at the peak of their summer. Probably they wouldn’t think it was delightfully cool.  Or people in desert areas—what would they think of my excitement over a rainless week? That I was a lunatic? We all visit other places, and marvel at the alien weather and plants and landscapes, but it’s hard for me to think of other areas’ weather as being normal. As an example, The Weather Channel Friday reported that the Los Angeles area had experienced nearly a half-inch of rain, and there was concern over flooding and mudslides. The area’s last recordable rainfall was in April. I actually watered my yard Saturday. Well, some wilted, thirsty-looking flowers anyway—straits have to get pretty dire before I’ll water the grass. Water just encourages it. You water, it grows, you have to cut it—vicious cycle.  But I did spray water on some flowers, and while I did, I tried to remember the last time I’d done that, and couldn’t. Could the last time my yard wasn’t too wet have been April? The last time it rained in L.A.? I spent some time in San Diego years ago. Every day the high was about 75 degrees. Every night the low was about 58 degrees. The sky was always clear. People there said it stays that way most of the year. I thought it was creepy. I’m sure if you transplanted them here, they’d think a whole summer of rain was creepy.  It’s a strange thing about weather, or about me, that the current weather seems to erase any memories of previous weather. When it’s unbearably hot and breathless, I can’t imagine a time when it was cool. On the rare occasions when it gets uncomfortably cool, I can’t remember how the unbearable heat felt. On Saturday, the endless rains and permasquelch of the summer were very, very distant memories. And I watered my flowers. So when it starts to rain again, you’ll know who to blame.   |
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