“Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.” Oscar Wilde
Ah, t'is ‘a fine soft day’ as the Irish are reputed to say about their weather...
I don’t know m’self, never having been to Ireland but the ‘wee touch o’ Heaven’ as it’s celebrated in song ‘n story owes the name ‘Emerald Isle’ to a super abundance of rain...’n it’s certainly emerald around Ol Fair Oaks these daze as our driest winter on record has become a forgotten weather issue...
‘Course, it’s a really nice rain, soft ‘n gentle, none of those wind-driven storms that shake the windows of the olde manor house ‘n the streets ain’t full of palm fronds that like to go sailing when the wind is up...Ol Fair Oaks sits on sumthin’ of a ridge but the rain water is pooling in the soggy bottoms around us ‘n we ain’t likely t’see any more snooze-nooze stories featuring a dry ‘n dusty Folsom Lake...at least for awhile anyways...what we’ll get now is overflowing creeks ‘n flooded roads ‘n wanna-be Anchors in rain gear ‘n ev’ry station that c’n afford it’ll have sumbody up at Blue Canyon marvelling at the height, depth ‘n breadth of the snow...Ah well! As ye olde farmers are wont t’say, “We need the rain.”
I expect Al Goracle’ud blame it all on climate change...
“Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.” Mark Twain
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