Glow ball warming.

[snarp]

This summer's been like North America decided that its next move, in terms of confusing items of cultural appropriation, will be the plum rain. The ground is always soaked; I think we've only watered the garden once. The peach tree at the end of the driveway is bent over so deeply that peaches brush the windshield. They'll be ripe next week, I think. Someone came by yesterday and denuded a couple of our trees of apples, and the deer have been walking brazenly into the yard at midday for the windfalls.

The rain starts so hard and fast it's like an overturned bucket. It used to be that when that happened, about two minutes beforehand there was a strong wind coming over the hills to the west. You would hear it coming, and then you would see the trees on the tops of the hills begin to shake, and it would move across the creek and the yard in a clearly-visible and audible wave. Branches would crack and fall, and then the rain would come. There's less wind now.

When tonight's bucket was kicked, I just sat and smirked out the window. This is what I do; in college I used to express such pleasure at bad weather that others blamed me for it. A few seconds later, I heard my parents out in the rain, shouting the dog's name. This continued for several minutes, ending finally with the entrance of a dog who looked like he'd gone for a swim, pursued futilely by two similarly-soaked humans with a towel. I went out to watch the procession, which ended, as destined, in a vigorous shake in front of the couch.

Then I came back in here and stared out the window until it was too dark to see the rain.

I love bad weather.

Too bad about all the other effects of global warming, though, huh?

Comments

[vass]

I identify with this post. Sometimes I get really guilty about how much I love cold, rainy weather, when a lot of my friends have SAD.