Shade

What's the best way to deal with a heat wave?

1. Find shade.

2. Get into the shade.

3. Rub yourself against the shade.

4. Bite the shade.

Almost December

I'm not gloating. It looks nice, but this kind of weather is wrong this time of year, even for Los Angeles. So really, no gloat. 

I had jury duty recently. At lunch break, I would visit Grand Park, buy a pulled pork sandwich from a lunch truck, and find myself some shade (too hot in the sun, wrong wrong wrong). In the background on the right is LA's City Hall. At the center is the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center, where I spent a couple of days. I was excused from the jury in the end, merely because they hadn't arrived at my number by the time they'd selected the panel. Being on a jury can be interesting but if you don't want to serve, you want a high number.

Jury duty is one of those American things I like to think of as "the worst system in the world, except for all the others."

Rain

Well, that was nice. For some of us.

A certain person named Wilma charged bravely out the back door to secure the perimeter against rain-crazed squirrels. Then she came in and crashed from the stress, curling up in her bed and moaning with disgust. Either that or she was snoring.

It's a good day to curl up, preferably with a book, but for some people that's not an option.

Flash

Here's a bit of contrast from Zen Monday. We've had real, actual, pouring rain today, with one good crack of lightning and thunder. Just one. I miss the big, Midwestern storms of my youth. They were as big as they were supposed to be.

This is a good evening for cuddling up with your book, your blanket and your hot toddy, however you choose to make it. I might opt out of the honey and just pour some whiskey in my tea.

I'll sit by the window and sip, hoping for another flash of lightning.

Phenom

People have seen icy puddles before. I grew up in northern Illinois, where icy puddles were the norm in late autumn. In fact, an icy puddle in January is the usual in many parts of the world. So forgive me for showing you this picture of something you've seen a million times.

But an icy puddle at Hahamongna Watershed Park in Pasadena, California on January 13th, 2013 at 1:27:08 pm is momentous. A record should be kept. A notation must be made. This should be posted, publicly, for future generations to see in some archive somewhere.

You will not be surprised that upon our return an hour later, the ice was gone.

Global Colding

The guy on the radio said we might have frost on our windshields tomorrow morning. 32 degrees is our predicted overnight low. That's considered freezing on the Fahrenheit scale.

Frost. Pasadena.

For yesterday's dog walk, John wore a woolen scarf around his neck. He also wore shorts, but still, something's not right.

These old houses--okay, this old house--is porous. I've never been crazy about dusting (warn me if you're coming over) but the cool breeze floating in around the window frames is even more disconcerting than the particles it brings with it.

Our heater works, so we'll have ourselves some winter and I'll cozy up indoors at the window. The skies are inordinately clear. The mountains rise, sharply, to meet the blue. The clouds are so towering as to inspire religion.

But doesn't it seem unusually cold for Pasadena?

Cold is Relative

How cold does it get where you are?

It got up to 61 degrees Fahrenheit here yesterday, and I know that's warm for this time of year if you live in, say, Fairbanks, or Antarctica, or Norwich. But that's not counting the wind-chill factor. It was so breezy it felt like 55! It gets into the low 40's by the wee hours. Brrr.

There's a pay-off: clear, blue skies and white clouds. Fast clouds, speeding across the mountaintops like puffy space invaders.

Okay, I'm ready to hear about the snow now.

Post-Prandial Perambulation

Our Christmas day walk on the upper path, east side of Hahamongna Watershed Park.

I did not saturate the colors in this photo. When we get rain, we get green.

Considering how we've been eating, it's going to take a lot more walking.

Discoveries

After several days of rain--a lot, for us--sunny skies are predicted for the immediate future. I like rain. I'm a homebody; to cuddle up in a blanket and read, pretending it's actual winter outside, is an old-fashioned pleasure for me.

Boz, our dog, does not like rain. This is a problem, as his bathroom facilities are outside. He won't go. He won't won't won't. He curls up in his towels (he owns a large collection) and it seems like he's pouting. But really, he's listening.

The moment he hears the rain stop he begins to murph. (This is how he expresses himself vocally--we haven't heard him bark since about 2005.) "Murph, murph," he says, repeating himself until we get what he's trying to tell us.

A family walk ensues. And discoveries.

Zen Monday: #222

Rainy days and Mondays always get Boz down. Even Zen Mondays.

If Boz could sing, I don't think he'd sound like Karen Carpenter. I think he would sound like Robert Plant.

Sorry to go on. Zen Monday is supposed to be the day when you caption the photo instead of me. But feel free to add links to your favorite rain songs, if you're so inclined.

Worm Kayak

It rained here most of the day yesterday. The neighborhood kids took advantage of the streams running in the gutters and made a couple of kayaks for the worms.

These are the girls, mind you. I'm not sure what the boys were up to.

This worm is fitted with its own kayak, oar, umbrella and seat belt. The way things work around here, he/she/it was about to head east. Bon voyage!

Storm Light

We had rain yesterday!

Rain!

The children ran out to play in it!

Boz got a raindrop on his head and refused to take one step further!

The storm poured down in rushes and lasted entire seconds!

And then...

And then...

Storm light.

Arms Down

I like warm weather.

I'll rephrase that. I like hot weather.

What I don't like is being stinky. I hope you don't mind my saying. John says nobody can smell me but me, but that's bad enough. And yes, I use deodorant, but no amount of ...

I probably shouldn't be talking about this.

How's your summer going? Getting ready for school? Some people are starting up again next week and it seems too soon, don't you think?

Weather Patterns

The heat wave has finally reached southern California. It was still above 90 degrees at 6pm yesterday, so Boz and I had to wait until the sun went down to take our walk. He did not appreciate the wait.

But once we got out it was pleasant to stroll. People were about, moving slowly, just appreciating the air. When you stay inside all day, even in air conditioning, you get stir crazy.

This isn't like the heat wave that's been plaguing the rest of the country. Mid-nineties is normal for August around here. It's just that every year I forget that until right about now.

Cool Relief

We're having hot weather (not unusual) and actual humidity (rare for soCal). It's not what I'd call oppressive, but it's been tough on Boz. Mostly he's bored. A trip around the block is all he can handle in the heat, yet he's restless. He wants action, baby.

So on Wednesday, before the ground got too hot for tender paws, we took Boz to the Lower Arroyo to enjoy the shade and (yes!) the stream that trickles from north to south among the reeds. He got as muddy and stinky as a dog can get without immersing himself. The picture shows you how far under Boz will go. He doesn't swim. He likes to walk about and cool his belly. He loves to dip his muzzle and bite the water.

From parking lot to bridge and back was all he needed. He slept for the remainder of the day, and he was fine all day yesterday, too, until evening when he became restless again.

Last night it rained, a light rain borne of overwrought humidity and a stressful sky that just had to shake itself out. It didn't pour, but it refreshed the humans almost as much as a trickling stream does a dog.

Generic Tissues, Pocket Size

Am I the only one having sneezing fits?

Around here the mowing, trimming and planting continue all year 'round. We've got the weather for it. But it looks like there won't be any more rain for a few months. As mud turns to dust and we kick it up, my nose reacts with snorty violence.

In spite of the nasal wars, I choose to live here. Wish I had a secret weapon.

Cloudy

Sun today, maybe? Please?

I need sun for equilibrium. That's not the word. For energy, mood. When we go for too long without sun it's as though the clouds have found a way to tap my energy right out of my pores, and lately I am drained.

Boz, our dog, has energy. (You can't see it because he's saving it for when it's sunny.) He hates clouds. He wants something. He wants anything. He follows me around the house, breathing. He wants me to fix it. This is awful. THERE MUST BE SUN.

When he's not following me around the house he's lying on his bed under his towel, waiting for me to fix it.

The critter on the leaf likes cloudy weather. He and Boz will never get along.

Storm

I didn't get a picture of the lightning (or the thunder, for that matter) but we had both yesterday. They're rarities around here. I welcome them, calamities that they may seem to be. Or nature's thrills, if you'd rather.

It was a respectable storm. Nothing terrifying, but not a piddle. Kind of refreshing, like a glass of ice-water on a summer's day.

The last time John and I were in Illinois we got caught in a prairie rumbler the likes of which frightens even the locals. We were driving from DeKalb to Chicago, or at least we were trying to. The storm was so feral we had to pull over and wait for it to pass, and hope it didn't notice us. You can't see to drive in a storm like that, no matter how frantically your windshield wipers wham. Because the water does not fall in drops, it does not fall in sheets or blankets or even torrents but in thick gobs, poured from the sky's pitchers by wild giants who don't care what they hit. It's ice-water, though not so refreshing when it's beating on you like that.

But it's beautiful to see as it rolls over the plains, dark and cruel as only an unconscious thing can be. As long as your defroster is working and you get a good viewing spot under the overpass, there's no show like it.

WetFest

Because we didn't get to have our LitFest yesterday (it's rescheduled for May 12th) I was hoping for a pretty good show of rain, and the skies delivered some beautiful stuff.

The Bottomless Pit of Love, aka Boz, gets even deeper on rainy days, refusing to go out and asking sweetly and persistently for extra attention. What can I say but yes? (Actually, I say "whoozapooper?" It means the same thing.)

In the afternoon, I talked to a friend in Chicago. (With her, I used regular English.) It was in the 70s and sunny where she was. It's supposed to be freezing and snowy in Chicago in March! What gives? Is it a fluke? Or is it time to mandate compost-powered cars?

We Have Weather

We do get weather in Pasadena. I haven't seen snow, although we often see it in the mountains above town and it's been known to happen here in the lowlands.

But hail is common here, at least in my experience. Once a year or so it comes crashing down for a few thrilling minutes. IT SOUNDS LIKE A LOT OF RAIN, if you know what a lot of rain sounds like, and if you don't, it sounds like the gods are on your roof, grindinging their bingo ball churner as fast as it will go.

Yesterday it was cold--for Pasadena. But as John said, it must have been a lot colder up where the gods make their bingo balls in the first place.