Messin’ with mah mind
This is false spring. I *know* this is false spring. Mother Nature has yanked my chain like this before.
Every year, in fact.
When I first moved here in 1997, it was a bad El Niño year, and I’d never seen so much rain in my life. Just when I thought I’d never see the sun again, the clouds parted and the temps warmed and flowers started to bloom. I was so relieved.
As I frolicked in my first false spring, a friend and lifetime Bay Area resident told me, “it always rains for Easter.”
I gave her a “feh!” and kept dancing in the cherry and almond blossoms, thrilled with the sun on my face.
Then, when Easter rolled around, dark and gray and cold, my kind, forgiving friend took a long drag off her cigarette and caustically said, “told you so.”
Yeah. And she’s been right every year since.
But I can’t help it. I hate the dark damp winter. It’s cold. It rains. It’s perpetually damp. I’m a desert rat! I am not built for rain!
So when, in February, the clouds part and the temps get up into the sixties and the first blossoms come on, the California poppies burst through the cracks in the pavement and tulips and irises find their way upward, I can’t help but be overjoyed!
In news from the east, I see feet and feet of snow, but for me, I’m digging out my favorite pair of flip-flops and trying to find my flowing skirts. I hate jackets! No more wellies!
Yes!
The temps are well into the sixties. My yard has exploded with clover and dandelion and all manner of life!
I love it! And every year I imagine it will stay like this.
I sing, I dance, and I frolic!
And as I do, a longtime Bay Area resident reminds me that there is more rain to come.
There always has to be a dream killer practical person, who is, of course, always right.
But forget about rains yet to come. I’m all about sun that is here TODAY!
Look at that, inn’it that purty? 67! Today! Yes!
