i Think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a ... a... ACHOO!
A picture of my Mom’s house in a cooler, calmer time... fog, lovely fog, glorious fog.oops.. can’t find it, so here’s her garden room... Not foggy... dang... I'll take pictures when I go to watch them trim the trees...
I’ll get to the title in a minute. It’s hot again here. It’s too hot and dry and the city is on fire yet again. It amazes me how many times it can burn and yet burn again the following year... Smarter heads than mine kept the fireguys sitting around after the last fires so that they would be ready just in case. T’was a clever idea... It’s after 9 and it’s about 80 or more in this house.... Beam me up Scottie...
This morning, in spite of the heat, I went up to my Mom’s house to meet with the tree trimmer leader. There are huge trees around her house, and they need to be trimmed every year. It’s too hot to think about it, much less think about the poor guys who have to actually DO it... that comes some other time, hopefully soon. Hence the achoo remark, as the dryness has everyone sneezing and sniffling.
But let me delve further into this heat thing. You see, children, (settling back in her rocking chair and drawing the young'un's around her), in Southern California we have this phenomenon called Santa Ana's. Normally, the flow of air is from west to east, making my little beach house a cool and breezy place to live, and pushing all the smoggy, stale air out to San Bernardino, where it lives (Sorry, Collegemom, but you know it's true
I hate the Santa Ana's... and the heat... and the dryness.. and fires... and news broadcasters in general.
I really am going to write more about traveling, but it is too hot to think, as this blog clearly proves.
Maybe in a couple of days.
If there’s anything left around here...
me!
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