Tom, the guy who lives next door, tells me that the rainy season starts October 15th. He’s old, and has lived in this area for longer than I’ve been alive, so I should believe him. All the same, I spent some time rummaging around the National Weather Service web site to see if he’s correct. He is, mostly: the rains do start in the middle of October, though there’s no one set day.
I also found that the warm days (by which I mean above 27 centigrade) generally end around the first of September. We’ve had a bit of an extension this year, but it looks like that’s going to come to an end. It’s 27 outside the office right now, but the highs for the next week are only expected to reach about 20 or 21. My kind of temperatures.
“Summer’s ending,” I told Kris when I first saw the forecast, with its stark change from sunny and warm on Tuesday to cool and damp on Wednesday.
“Shut up,” she told me. It’s been a long, dry summer (and our plants are suffering for it — I seem to have lost a blueberry!), but she’s not ready for it to end. To tell the truth, I don’t know if I am, either.
Don’t get me wrong — I love autumn. It’s my favorite season. But this has been a nice summer. I could wish for it to last a while longer. My cousin Bob just built us a wonderful new picnic table and delivered it on Sunday night. Couldn’t I be granted a few more warm days to enjoy it?
Too, there’s the fact that we’re beginning to believe that my Depression is seasonal. We had a couple of grey days a few weeks ago, and wouldn’t you know it? I fell into a deep funk. I’ve never given much credence to Seasonal Affective Disorder (also), but I’m going to pay close attention to my mood levels over the next couple of months. There may be something real here. (Tiffany was the first one to point out that my mood seemed to be influenced by the weather.)
I took a walk this afternoon, and enjoyed the sun. I had too. It may be the last I see of it for six months.