Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Do you all recall my recent weather defiance?
Did you witness as I challenged the skies with my responsible storm preparation, and verbally smacked the proverbial wind bitches down?
Yeah. The weather people, they said it would storm. They said it would storm one day, and it didn't. They said it would storm the next day, and it didn't. They said it would storm again a few days later, and still, it didn't storm.
As the days went on with naught to show for the weather seers' warnings but the occasional ominous but evidently impotent cloud-- no fearsome, power-line-ripping winds, and no rain-- I thought to myself:
Yeah, those wind bitches-- they talk a good game, but when it comes down to a challenge, just look! All bluster and no bite. Nothin' but a load of hot air. The moment one miniscule human dared shake her fist in their general direction, they puffed their gusty butts right out of town. Snap! I think the town should give me a plaque for sending those silly storms on their cranky way.
Then I realized: The wind bitches, those clever, clever wind bitches, with their heavenly ironic wits. They are playing me for a fool.
You see, though it's true we certainly don't need any more dangerous storms here, there is something we do need.
Those storms we had that knocked out power to over half a million homes? That for all intents and purposes shut more than half of a major metropolis down? They didn't drop so much rain. Nor, in fact, did they do all that much to break a heat wave that basically lasted through the entire month of July.
And now? Most of the grass around here is dead; it crackles like kindling. Which it is what it would be, actually, for a careless match. Every day, at just about two in the afternoon, my herb garden does its best impression of an overly dramatic southern woman fainting at a funeral.*
Even the trees are drooping.
We are nearly nine inches below normal rainfall for the year at this point, folks. And today, scattered thunderstorms were predicted yet again. Clouds gathered. I set out my candles in anticipation. I turned my computer off.
Nature, you mock me.
*Practically half of my herbs are native to the dry, sandy soils of the Mediterranean, for heaven's sake. Yes, I'm talking about you, Sage and Thyme. I'm not buying your "I just can't take the heat" dramarama. But I water you like bunch of weak, wimpy, rootbound Sweet Basil plants anyway, you pansies. No offense to the actual pansies. Which are totally taking the heat like champs, UNLIKE certain other edibles I know.