The season is upon us. We've had rain for the last week or so. Some days it's heavy and others it's barely there, but still it falls. Personally, I love it maybe because it's been so danged hot and dry for so long. Chinch bugs have decimated the lawn. Why oh why don't they eat weeds and nut grass! No, they only eat the good St. Augustine sod that we have in this area. I find no consolation in the fact that other yards look as bad or worse than ours. Gordon really hates it because he remembers a time when he stayed on top of things and put out the poison for the odious little critters and kept them at bay when yards all around us succumbed to them.
But in time, I suppose the grass will come back and it will be pretty again till the next hot dry spell. Maybe I can keep better watch on it next year.
And it's the season that weatherguessers love. They gloat and prance about pointing to the giant maps and watch every little wave or ripple even way off thousands of miles, trying to tell us they know what is going to happen and where the next hurricane will hit when there is no hurricane yet.
I wouldn't make a good weatherman. If nothing was imminent, I would say so, telling people to relax and wait for something real. Then I would fold up my map and go home for a nap. But they have to report something I suppose. Why not where the weather is balmy and beautiful and no one is burning up with heat or dying in the cold, or drowning or being earthquaked? I know that's not a word, but I like it.
I love how our local talking heads complain of the heat in the summer and then gripe about the cold in the winter. They hardly pay attention to the seasons inbetween when normal people enjoy the nice temps. I think most anchors and co hosts are secretly in love and find those little exchanges a form of TV flirting. "Oooo Bob, I am so hot! Can't you find us a bit of cool weather?" she says as she flutters her false eyelashes.
As far as weather is concerned, I am neutral. I am lucky enough to have an air conditioned home so I can stay in if I don't like what is happening outside. At my age, comfort is everything. After all, what else do we have? The only thing I care about is that we don't have to evacuate from a hurricane. If we do, I need to make arrangements at the funeral home because it will kill both of us to do that again. Pack up everything, including cats, try not to think of our things that might be destroyed, hit the road with thousands of others, all running like rats from a sinking ship. Drive, drive, drive, even though your muscles are aching and your feet are crying out loud. Worry about your ailing spouse who groans with every small bump in the road. Finally find whatever accommodations there are God knows where and unload everything. Try to make meals and be semi comfortable in a room that is the worst you have ever stayed in and pray for the all clear so you can go home.
Pack up everything again and get back on the road, counting the hours till you get there. Sadly see all the debris and destroyed homes, power lines, and general destruction all the way home. Finally getting to your home town, and still seeing really bad damage everywhere. Turning the corner onto your street just knowing your home is destroyed. No, it's still there. No power and the yard is a mess, but the roof is there.
I find this stressful to the max and then I think of those who are left with nothing and I am praying thanks for us, feeling guilt about them, so I pray for us all.
No, we can't go. That's it. I read in our paper that if we don't go we are subject to a fine. Sorry, I am still not going.
I just now went out to pick up our morning paper. Gosh the light rain felt good. If my feet would allow, I think I might take a walk in the rain. Mama and I used to like that.
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