Not Last Night

Every weather forecast we heard yesterday – the “official” ones on the radio, that is — predicted winds up to 70 miles per hour beginning in the late afternoon.  As it turned out, late afternoon was lovely.  The drizzle and mist of the morning had faded away, the sun was out, and the breeze was not more than an occasional zephyr.

At our Friday night gathering, someone said that “the weather” had moved south; we weren’t going to get the wind after all.  Or… maybe later in the night.  If it did come, I slept through it.  But I woke up thinking about it, just the same.  And, I thought about how often we talk, think, worry or celebrate the weather.  It’s like an unpredictable relative – always out there, somewhere.  A force to contend with whether you want to or not.

Yesterday: “The Calm Before the Storm” by Joshua Wilkins

It occurred to me, too, that the mucky-muck-power-people probably don’t think about the weather (or their difficult relatives) much at all.  Most of them are in their climate-controlled offices and halls and meeting rooms and golf clubs day in and day out.  In fact, I wonder if they even change clothes to accommodate the cold or the wet or the scorching.  How many times have they slogged over a muddy tide flat in the driving rain or ridden out twenty-foot swells waiting to cross the bar or even changed a tire during a gale?  Do any of them know how to solve a problem without just throwing money at it?

Scouting a Building Site?

Sorta grim thoughts to have over that first cup of coffee.  Especially since the predicted storm didn’t come our way.  This time.  For that I’m thankful.  And, besides… the swallows are back in Oysterville!  Spring is truly here, no matter the weather.