This strange new climate we’ve been experiencing in north Texas lately, never mind on the west coast where drought has reentered the vocabulary for the first time in eons and the northeast where winter and massive storms have ruled in a newly lengthy way, makes me think I’m on another planet. Or perhaps a parallel reality. Whatever it is, it seems a bit surreal and decidedly unfamiliar.
In the last number of days we’ve had more rain, more thunder-and-lightning, and more windstorms—even a small tornado or two touching down not far from our home—than many past years have seen altogether locally. We’ve driven along what are normally pastures and meadows and bone-dry fields and low runoff gullies and seen what looks like it should have the iconic airboats of the southern swamps speeding through: trees and brush sticking out intermittently from extensive marshes where we’ve only ever seen dry land. The phenomenal density and lushness of the grasses and trees, wildflowers in rampant carpets blooming for weeks on end instead of days, and swarms of early insect madness all explode around us in unprecedented extremes.
Then, today, a brilliantly sunny, rather hot, almost cloudless day; it was exactly as I would expect here in a typical mid-May. The rosebush behind the kitchen, shorn before the last storm of its spectacular but doomed bucket full of blooms lest they be beaten to death by the ongoing rain and hail, decides to pop out a couple of fireworks to celebrate the sun’s return. The birds are sunning themselves on every branch and power line as though to soak up rays as quickly as they can. The local lawn crews dash madly from house to house.
Because the weather forecast says we should expect about 7 or 8 days, at least, of rain and thunderstorms to begin again tomorrow.
And isn’t that the way things go? We decide we know how the world will operate, how we expect life to move forward, what we will do within it, and immediately we are given a firm reminder that nature will do as it pleases, that change is inevitable, and that we are small jots on the map of history. The sun will blast its way through a wall of weeks-long storming and then the storms will drop their dousing movable sea back down over the landscape for another round. We make our predictions and forecasts and duck and weave to move through it all as best we can guess we should, and it all changes again.
For now, I am content to adopt a wait-and-see attitude. All of it is rather exciting and surprising and even, welcome. And there’s nothing I can do to stop change. So I’ll just enjoy the weird phenomena as best I can, soak up the rain and then stop and smell the roses between times again when the opportunity arises.
If you can figure out how to send some of that rain out here to California, we’d appreciate it…
I know, I know. Isn’t it bizarre? Our family in Washington is uncharacteristically “thirsty” these days, too. And yet we’re surrounded by so much rain here in parts of Texas that there are not only overflowing lakes but rivers where there were none before, and an oddly jungle-like proliferation of greenery many locals claim they’ve never seen around here.
Hope we all find ways to mitigate the new weather patterns.
Best to you and yours, and may the rain find you!
Good morning Katherine. It would seem that we are now living in a world of dramatic climate change and as you say, there is nothing we can do about it – Mother Nature always rules…if only we could all respect her power.
Change is of course the only certainty in life. I consider inclement weather, (and of course we are used to quite a bit of that in the UK:) an opportunity to studio paint. So as you say, always a plus side:)
Have a wonderfully creative day. Janet. xxx
We were 78F yesterday and 56F today. . Roll the dice and we’ll see what’s in store for tomorrow! 😀
No kidding! We reversed it here—64 and storming yesterday, and 80-something in full sun today. Rolling dice now. 😉
Even with all the sog along the TX coastal plains, we don’t dare complain about the rain and storms. We had a weather cycle like this in the 50’s and again in early 80’s ( I was sooo tired of everything being wet…wet shoes). Nothing like a la nina year.
You’re right. Mother Nature is reminding us that we are along for the ride, not the opposite!
Absolutely! She runs the show. We simply need to figure out how to do our best to help her along and keep ourselves out of worse trouble when and if we can. Here’s hoping!