Oh ye of little faith, oh ye of sudden downpours and stone splitting sunshine. Where is your humanity!? Oh of course, humanity inextant by reason of divinity or natural occurrences.
In early March we thought we were having summer. Then the howling wind and sprightly hailstones returned to play. The girls are feeling such despair (sarcasm) at the lack of delineated season that they turned on the garden tap, made their own puddle (albeit a small Caspian Sea) and proceeded to nearly drown themselves in the muddy, dusty, dirty puddle water across the back yard. I don’t blame them. I’d like some concrete seasons here too. That’s what I love about the Home Country. Defined seasons. In summer it is sunny, with occasional, welcome showers and amazing lightning and thunderstorms, In winter, it snows, its cold. Winter is still going on there! And it almost May!! I prefer Winter. Fall is that exactly. Leaves turned the homey oaken colours of annual closure, the ground crackles and the wind sweeps. Spring is less defined but the budding flowers are a testament.
HERE, however. My geraniums (outdoor) and roses (outdoor) were still blooming in early December. I have heard of hardy flowering, but I am a seasoned geranium and roser and I have never seen such late blooming. We went to the beach in February whereupon I got burnt. What the hell?????? I don’t mind rain, apart from the looming boredom factor, because as we have taught the girls, ‘It means the Earth needs a drink’. I have no problem. I just wish the meteorologists on TV would get the predictions for once. I am sick of an ambiguously climated country. I want predictable patterns and local know-how. Dear Ceres, what happened to the cycle?
I am ratty, I accept that. I am bordering on 5 months, I think I am coming down with Seasonal Affective Disorder. I’d like a Cinnabun and cream cheese. I miss the home country. Sure the people are a trifle difficult, but where we currently live, I welcome the forwardness and the protocols and whatnot; so sick am I of ‘under rug swept’ mentalities and the parental scowls that follow me everywhere. Not sure, honestly, what I’m doing to piss all these people off, all I know is, I am in the wrong country, or possibly the wrong locality and am crying to be let go to move!
Come on summer, in addition to my womb-bound rhino, give me something to look forward to; not the drought part, I have no problem with rain. Just tell me it’ll be summer and let summer it be. 18 degrees and up, little or no wind during the day, although clouds I will leave to nature’s discretion. Please stop with this nutjob seemingly promising and then disastrously disappointing meteorological looniness I am finding myself or I may well just pack up and go.