I’m sitting out in the California room. This is a protected spot, but I can see the effect of the wind whipping around me. The watering can is on its side. The thin mattress on the hammock is pointing down, not up. The overhead fan, turned off, is spinning slowly.
The sky is as blue as can be. I’m not sure it could be Photoshopped any bluer!
We’re at 94°. The dew point is 8°. It is very dry. I should be perspiring. Moisture evaporates before drops can form.
That’s part of the desert’s power. You can succumb to dehydration without suspecting you’re in trouble.
My lips are dry. Where’s the ChapStick?
Our earlier neighborhood wildfire is out. The Fire Authority reported 77 firefighters for the three acre blaze. I saw two copters. The air was pungent.
Thank you Orange County Fire Authority for keeping us safe. We appreciate your dangerous mission on our behalf.
This area was built with the understanding that things burn. All the homes have fire suppression sprinklers. The roofs are mainly clay.
I leave my laptop out here on the sofa. It’s full of dust. Maybe I should reconsider? Maybe it’s too late?
The weather here in SoCal is usually gentle, but it has interesting twists and turns. Another one is coming tomorrow.