In my last blog I poked fun at the drought situation here in Northern California by suggesting that we could remind ourselves of what real actual rain was like by going to Hawaii. Oddly enough when we came back to California it wasn’t long until the tropics decided to follow us and bring with it the California edited version of tropical rain. I kid you not. There it was for all to see on the weather report the big glorious system drifting north from Hawaii straight into our open Californian arms. I wanted to say that the suction behind the jet plane we flew in on brought the rain with it. But we know it didn’t. Still and all, we were very happy to see it. Now I want it to go away. Well, not quite yet but pretty soon.
All semblance of neatness and cleanliness has gone somewhere else. Where, I know not. There are muddy dog paw prints and muddy cowboy boot prints tracked all over the house. There are chips flying every which way from wood being cut up in the house for the wood stove. Some one whose intellect I will not cast aspersions on thought in their brilliancy to make our mud room the size of a coat closet. They also didn’t think ahead enough to create a roofed chore barn where wood can be cut and messes are tolerated in greater detail. My dear Aunt J advised me to pick my battles so when Marty tromps in and out doing his chores I am loath to say “take off your boots, honey!” It just seems like adding insult to injury when he’s toting 100 pound bales of hay around to feed cows, horses and who knows what-all. When things start drying up – as they eventually will – I’ll sweep out all the detritus and “normalcy” will return.
In the meantime I just look out the picture window from the main living room at dusk and admire the low clouds across the Mendo Range and think things aren’t all that bad. I’ll just keep looking and not turn around. What I have blocked out won’t hurt me!