Winter reared its ugly head in the Bay Area today, but I stared it down. Gray skies, even a bit of rain. But it was really more like a hot and humid summer day in the Midwest than any normal day, summer or winter, here in Northern California. It was a silent storm, though, such as it was. No thunder, and no early fireworks.
I've been scoffing and sneering at the weather wags who keep telling us to expect rain. Then this morning as I was coming out of the grocery store, big wet drops started plopping on the plastic bags in my cart. Later this afternoon, when I walked out to get the mail, the air was still heavy and damp.
When I left for my errands this morning, I had to dodge the county work crew, who picked today to patch the paving on my two-lane road. As I was returning, I wondered if the sudden shower would keep them from finishing the project. Sure enough, as I was driving west, the parade of yellow trucks was moving east, emergency lights flashing, as they hauled the equipment out of here for the day. They hadn't got much done, having worked for little more than an hour.
I'm not saying it never rains here during the last week in June. And I'm not even going to complain about one day of leaky clouds. Good for the garden, keeps the fire danger to an acceptable risk level, makes the air smell sweet. Hurray for rain, but let's not have it settling in for the duration. Let's have enough to dampen the pollen count, but not enough to make big muddy bogs that I have to wade through to get from the house to the garage. Please.
What I'm really afraid of is that the areas I've so meticulously cleared of weeds will now experience a new growth spurt. That would tick me off no end.