Friday, October 9, 2009

I'm Talking About the Weather

You know how when you've been out of touch with someone it's kind of hard and embarrassing to get back in touch...and then you stay out of touch longer, and then it's even MORE embarrassing? That's how I feel right now. I've meant to blog. In the summer I managed to blog every day about filing, but then skipped right over whole blocks of incidents and more important subjects in the fall.

So I'll do what people have done for years to get to know you again: talk about the weather.

Our northern California edition of the New York Times shows our weather on the top right of the front page. At the beginning of this week it read:

"Abundant sunshine and very pleasant...tomorrow, more of the same."

This made me laugh. Such a cliche, and so desirable, and in some way, so boring, all at the same time! As if it was a lack of weather that left it the same. Perhaps I am just permanently shaped by growing up in cold, cloudy Syracuse, New York. The weather report there NEVER said that -- not once.

This morning is still cloudy here in Northern California, and strangely, I feel a little happier. I find it so hard to stay inside and do work when it's so obnoxiously nice outside! California, I like you, but sometimes I don't really love you.

Then again, it's always this time of year that I miss the east coast -- October, fall, the changing leaves. Maple trees are planted along some of the streets of our neighborhood, but they are petite, and the color change polite. The east coast may get bitter winters and rainy springs, but fall -- at least outside of the cities -- is a blast of brilliant color and crunch whose least concern is politeness. And you don't get the state of fall without the the rest of the package. And then there are apples, and cider.

In any pros and cons list there are trade-offs. Pretty much anything can be a pro or a con.


Anonymous said...

Don't miss those New York autumns, pretty for like three days as the leaves change then everything dies, sitting on an old rock wall at 7 AM, waiting for the school bus, sky slate gray, as gray as the wall.


Lisa Melts Her Penn said...

But, see, STR, without those few days, you would not have that lovely image on the rock wall.