HAIL NO

They say April showers bring May flowers, but our Spring weather has become ridiculous. Woke up in the night to the souond of a deluge which turned out to be a hail storm. Woke up to brilliant sunshine, and the local news stations broadcasting pictures of hail covering most of the Bay Area. The fluctuating temperatures are bewildering as one is never sure what part to cover or uncover.

I know I have been rather proud of the fact that I used a flip phone and didn’t knuckle under to a collection of electronic devices. But slowly, without even realizing it, a collection has formed, many of which, like us, need frequent battery recharging. A small battle occurred the other evening over which plug fit which phone. Lines must be drawn.

Most of the devices which have found a home with us are useful in more ways than as entertainment. As eyesight diminishes the iPad is invaluable for reading books after paper books become things of a delightful past. Reading isn’t quite the same with them. One can’t really jump back and forth rereading a well-written phrase, or even an entire chapter. I suppose one could, but it would be cumbersome. The Smartphone for me offers the chance to use Uber for transportation in possibly the near future. We are in a holding pattern right now while waiting for Dr. A’s new drivers license to arrive. As the chief cook, I have been accumulating ways to get groceries from the store to home at some point. All part of trying to adjust.

I spent the morning listening to music I had forgotten about via our new friend Alexa. Our daughter gifted us with her and it is very nice to be able to instantly order someone about. It must be a latent fault. Alexa knows all and pops off the answers quicker than a wink. As far as music goes, she has most, though I have tried to trick her with odd selections she cannot supply. She is a toy, and one we certainly do not need, but in these days of stay at home days, traffic and afternoon hailstorms, she is a ray of sunshine.

SEPTEMBER COMES

September comes and lived among us matching the colors of my dreams. Then she quietly slipped away as October unobtrusively turned the page, and began another phase in the cycle of Nature. All in all, she was a courteous and well-mannered guest. The land had absorbed heat in spots foreign to such heat, and plants withered and died without necessary water. But though a hundred things may be wrong, a thousand things are right, and completely in order.

A skein of ducks or geese, intent on answering their age old call to the south, flew high in the sky the other morning. Winter will come, as it has for millennia, in spite of our expectations as to the weather.

Whether it was ducks or geese on their lofty journey, I cannot say, but the sound of their passing was comforting, knowing it as another sign that all is right with the world.

While ducks are thought of as privileged and charming creatures, geese are much maligned by descriptions such as “silly goose”, etc. I agree that geese can sometimes be loud and annoying, but they are useful as guard dogs in many cases. Because of their profound family sense, Penny. our small dachshund, refused to walk again after being attacked by an angry Father Goose protecting his nesting partner. My mother’s geese in Grants Pass, Oregon, lived lively lives across the ditch, and heralded the approach of anyone brave enough to come across the small bridge. A friend was given a few baby geese who instead of bonding with her as hoped, made it necessary to simply throw food over the fence for them.

In spite of these unpleasant qualities, we must thank the goose for its feathers to fill warm duvets and pillows when winter bares its gnarly teeth. As writers we must thank the goose for the quill, which enabled those who came before us to write down their thoughts so that we may wonder at their brilliance, and gain the knowledge which gives a foothold in teaching those who follow us.

Thinking back to my early Latin study, our word pen comes from penne which meant feather or quill. Just think, the lovely Italian pasta penne, really means feather. I guess that would be food for thought.

Goose plumage feathered the arrows which indirectly won the Battle of Hastings, which was a major turning point in English history. Goose feathers on the longbow was as epochal as the invention of the bomb today.

November is just over the hill to the east and will bring a sweet chill.

THE BEST LAID PLANS

You can plan all you like, but you can’t plan on the weather. We had set aside yesterday for a picnic in Alameda with friends. The weather had simmered away in the 80’s and 90’s for a number of weeks, keeping us cooking and cooking our heels at home.

Yesterday the smell of petrichlor filled the air and heralded the imminent arrival of the first raindrops, ready to wash the summer dust off the leaves and give sustenance to a thirsty soil.

Brave souls as we are, we decided to wing it and go on our picnic anyway. Stopping at a favorite place for lattes first, we sat inside watching the rain charging down the estuary on pattering feet. Two gentlemen of a certain age sat nearby wearing short-sleeved summer shirts and shorts, obviously visitors on vacation, while I at least, sensibly dressed in wool turtlenect sweater and raingear. The cold sandwiches waiting in our picnic basket didn’t seem too inviting as opposed to a bowl of hot soup at that point.

The estuary is where so many wonderful crew races have taken place through the years, and the Cal boathouse is just across the channel from where we sit watching and hoping that either Cal or the University of Washington win. It is sometimes troubling to be torn between rooting for one or the other. It was not a day for racing.

Alameda is my hometown and though we fight the traffic now when going there, it is lovely to drive down its peaceful tree lined streets, and revisit familiar and much loved old homes and other spots where my life became interesting. The beaches are deserted in the rain, but with the recent warm weather, they were frequently filled with families enjoying the water to cool off.

The rain let up a little and we arrived at our picnic spot near the Bay with all of San Francisco at our feet. Several juvenile egrets joined us, though they are not hungry beggars like the gulls, who are absent when it rains. They came close, but not too close, and pulled a few worms from the grass for their lunch while we chomped our cold sandwiches quickly before the next rain fell. It was, after all, a satisfying day.