Last night the predicted storms arrived. I woke up, sometime before dawn, to rain and wind and the low, faraway rumble of thunder. One of my favorite things is to listen to the elements whilst snuggled in bed. It must be some kind of primal thing...or childhood memories of waking in the dark, the house quiet around me, warm and toasty under the covers as I listened to the chaos outside.
I've always, always loved a good storm, the wilder the better. There's just something so raw and scary about the unpredictability, the sheer force of nature, that resonates to my soul.
It's been raining for most of the day--storm after storm--though it's not in the least bit cold. I have the doors and windows open, the breeze wafting in is warm and humid, almost tropical.
Five minutes ago. A brief vision of blue skies, though it's raining far across the valley as the clouds roll over the mountains from the coast...
Over the weekend it was still unseasonably warm--82* on Saturday. I mowed the lawn, hopefully for the final time, and made my last pitcher of sun tea. Then I tried to drink it sparingly, savoring the unique taste of Chai brewed and mellowed by the sun, because it will be months before I make another batch.
Except. I didn't restrain myself enough apparently. This afternoon, and my last taste of sun tea...
Ah well. I'm ready to make the switch to hot tea, and cocoa. Definitely.