Seventy

The principal memory from last weekend: the constant cold rain from late morning to midnight Saturday. It marked the end of about four weeks of storms coming in off the Pacific. Depending on the weather reporting station you checked, we got anywhere between ten and a half and thirteen inches of rain during that span. A foot of rain in a month is a lot any way you figure it. It started clearing up Sunday, though, and Monday and Tuesday were sunny and about 60 degrees. Except for a foggy start to Wednesday, that’s the way the whole week was.

But yesterday, yesterday was something. We woke up late and took The Dog out for a walk around 9:30 in the morning. The chill was already off the air. We spent much of the afternoon attacking the big tracts of weeds in the back yard; at our place, anyway, the temperature pushed 70. It stayed warm even after the sun went down. Mosquitoes appeared for scored the first bites of the season.

Today, much like yesterday. Looking at the forecast, we’ve got a week of dry weather coming; maybe that portends a break for people back east, though I know there are storms slipping down toward the center of the country from the Pacific Northwest. I don’t count on the dry weather lasting, and in the rhythm of our climate one starts hoping that the storms will be back to build up our summer water supply (stored in the Sierra snows). The break is nice, though.

On into tonight, which will be a late one for the fogies. We’re going off to a show at The Fillmore–the first time I’ve ever gone there. It’s a Christmas present from one of the kids, and a nice end to the weekend.

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