One of Those Days like when Farmer Bill out in Iowa is sitting in the living room listening to the -10 degree wind whistling around the corner of the barn, delaying his tramp out to the barn through three feet of snow to milk the cows by watching a UCLA football game on TV and he sees the blue sky and hears the announcer tell the world that the temperature is 78 degrees. He looks at that screen and yells out to his wife in the kitchen,
"Martha! Start packin'! We're sellin' the farm and movin' to California!"
Which is what my great grandparents did except they went to visit some relatives in Oregon on the way to California and loved the Willamette River Valley and never left. My cousin Donna and I are the only ones who ever made it to California.
And yet. And yet. The great weather comes with a price as the world saw last month. It doesn't rain much and wild fires are a constant threat.
I hear it when people talk about the weather about the fact it hasn't rained but 4 inches here since LAST fall. I sense the tension in their voices, see the wariness in their eyes.
Are the Santa Ana Winds going to start up again this week and bring more hot dry winds to drive sparks in a fiery fury that will burn our forests, our towns, our homes? AGAIN.