4.17.15 The joys of weather behaving badly

         I realized the other day that when you don't live somewhere like this, there aren't clouds precipitating and doing all sorts of remarkable creative things all the time.

        Weather coming and going and changing and snowing in May and melting everything suddenly in January. Mud seasons and flooding and parched  dry periods and then hot humid miserable mosquitoey Julys. 

      Fresh temperate fall days with the aroma of fallen leaves, and the hills resplendent with unbelievable color. 

     Winter days of frozen air pricking your nose and making toes and fingers ache, replete with freezing rain and ice formations and all the clothing you stuff yourself with to tromp out into the woods. The cozy warm of nights inside, hot tea and slippers and warm soups. 

     There are so many things we do to calibrate ourselves to the weather we each encounter.

      Myself, yes I have seen and breathed and relished California and Maui and Albuquerque and Mexico. But after a bit, I find myself waiting for weather. For surprises that don't come in the form of a soft gentle rain, each afternoon at 4-4:30. Pfft. 

And I find myself so glad I live in a place, high on a tiny mountain range, with wild ones and unpredictable weather and surprises at every turn.