A view from the front yard.

The heat has lifted, for the time being. This is a relief, especially considering the gallons of sweat that I shed over the weekend trying to avoid turning on the air conditioning (I was cleaning house- I was going to sweat whether it was on or off, so I might as well save the electricity.) In its place, a thick, grey haze of humidity has settled over the city making everything clammy and sticky with moisture. 

Even so, it seemed like a good idea to water the roses. I’m a mediocre gardener at best. I’m astonished whenever I manage to get anything to grow at all, and usually chalk it up to luck and Mother Nature finding ways to be successful in spite of my incompetence. (Arguably, this sums up the entire relationship between nature and humanity, so I don’t feel too bad.) So far, my gardening accomplishments in our new house have consisted to getting a couple kitchen-scrap potatoes to sprout, and not killing the roses. 

So I stood out in front of the house housing down the rose bushes and starting blankly into space, admiring the cloud formations overhead. Living in the generally arid environment of Southern California, magnified in the San Fernando valley by the protection of the hills on all sides, it is pretty rare to have much cloud formation at all. On the rare occasions when clouds do contrive to make it over the hills, it is usually in the form of a featureless marine layer haze.  So it was a rare treat.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this… I don’t think this post is going to have a point. 

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on July 25, 2017.

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