Spring Weather

Between the lake and the ocean are just a few feet of sand dunes. This last week we've seen waves pushing through, above the berms, roiling up the lake and adding foam and salinity.

From my deck, I can see each rivulet forming and snaking down from the dunes after each crashing wave.

This is the driveway, under constant barrage.

Yes, that's ice, hail accumulating on the deck, keeping us behind close doors.

Today's weather: wet, with possible snow showers and coastal flooding.

No egg-hunts for me tomorrow morning!

We just hope the winds don't knock out the power.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Rain, and snow, and other storms around us.

I spoke too soon, and the furies were right there behind the horizon, watching for an opportunity. And last night, all throught the night they tore at the coastline, ravaging the dunes,sending all animals, big and small to take cover. Today, and through the entire weekend they are supposed to hang around, showing their power. There is snow on the roof of my sunroom. At sea level. Snowroom.

We needed the rain. And the snow. And winter.

Today the garden will rest, while I remain indoors and use up those sticks and branches that I've collected around the yard and have not burned. The fireplace will go back to fuel coziness.

I'm watching the flames burn quickly through two boxes of wood and kindling in just one hour. Fortunately, my electricity is working, and the fireplace is not really needed. It is just a prop in a play, to remind us of the days when we couldn't survive without that fire.

Rain and snow and thunder will be the protagonists today, in a play where we can be the audience, comforted by our circumstances.

I wonder how many people will be affected by the other storms hitting our world, storms where people have been the protagonists; storms that were fueled by greed and selfishness and carelessness. None of us can rest.

Who's got our rain?

After stripping down to t-shirts for the last few weeks I'm beginning to worry. Where is the rain? My paper-whites are blooming and even the roses haven't slowed down. The arugula is going to seed after a couple of weeks of life, and the apple trees are threatening to bud.

Where is the rain?

We shouldn't be complaining, I know. But this is our rainy season, a time for snow to pile up on the mountains and flow down in our rivers and creeks in the summer time.

The geese have arrived this week on the lake, waking us up yesterday with their honking. Great big geese, usually here by the end of October, are late and fat and perhaps confused, too. How long will they stay. How much will they find to eat since the farmers have harvested their hay long ago, readying for the rainy season. It is the middle of December, but here on the southern Oregon Coast it feels like spring, with temperatures in the high fifties and sun so warm on our south facing patio that I'm maintaining my summer tan into winter.

It is hard to think of Christmas, and spruce trees, and garlands of evergreen perfuming the house. We don't get enough of summer, out here. This feels good; but weird, and abnormal. It ought to rain big time by now. Last year, in early December, we had a major storm that lasted days, and brought major havoc. What's happening out there?

Who's got our rain?

Tropical days in Oregon

The unusually warm days we have been having are good for tomatoes but are a nuisance to everything else.

We heard sighs all over town; people came out in shorts exposing scary white legs and arms. Ouch! We are outdoor people, usually with many layers of clothing hiding layers of unexposed skin. How can we survive this heat wave?

We moved sprinklers around to help the newly planted lettuces, onions, cosmos and stocks. The trees will do fine, going deeper to get their water; and the birds will look for lakes and ponds.

Hubby prepared Margheritas and chips, and fired up the outdoor grill. We were back in California, only with a better view and fewer people. The ocean roared and spewed, promising cooler breezes coming. We are counting on those promises. We didn't move to Oregon for the heat.

As we vote this week, we will seriously consider the candidates who are serious about keeping our planet safe, green and no warmer than it has already become. Global warming can seriously destroy a lot of life.