Did you hear the one about the blonde and brunette standing together in the forest? The blonde says, “Hey, look at that dead bird.” The brunette turns, looks skyward and says, “Where?”
A glorious day here! Or should I say week. No, I should say month. And then some. Now, we are in a strong El Nino, so I tell myself don’t get used to it. I alluded to this the other night when I mentioned to our dinner guests that it’s never wise to move to a new place in summer. Why’s that they wondered. Because it’s all fun ‘n games when the weather is nice but at the same time unrepresentative of what the climate is on average. Sure, we don’t experience average temperature, but my point is to the extent your mood and overall quality of life in a place correlates with the weather there, then if your expectations are set by your first impression of five months of summer, you’re potentially setting yourself up for a big disappointment come December. Now, if you’re like HW, the logic is reversed – for her, moving in summer is the right thing to do because she can see right away how bad it can be, being she can get a little “prickly” when temperatures soar (🤣) to 80º or higher. Still, I love this woman more than I love myself.
Now, one of our guests, Jean – she and her husband are long timers here – in apparent agreement with what I’d said, was quick to caution, “You’re right, we do get winter here. And sometimes the snow turns to ice, which can hang around for, oh, I don’t know… [Jean nudges her husband to get his attention…’Dear, how long did we have ice in our gutters in 2021, two days was it?’]. Anyway, winter can be nasty here,” she said.
I lock eyes with Jean, resisting a smirk I feel coming on, “Wait, did you say two days, Jean?”
She’s on to me. “Well, of course I don’t mean it’s like Alaaaaska.”
We enjoyed a laugh together then returned our attention to the Marcona Almond crusted halibut on our plates. Paired with a rib eye that I’d mindlessly overcooked to well-donenness on the Traeger (not an error I’m known for 🤨), and a side of red & yellow baked beets topped with feta. For desert HW had made a delicious ricotta cheesecake topped with a black berry compote, made with black berries she’d harvested near the beach, just down from our home. Several bottles of fine wine were emptied.
Yes, we moved here in summer. It’s all we’ve experienced so far. So I hope I’m not setting myself up for disappointment when I conclude, What’s not to love?