There could be three days of rain this week, but after that it will probably return to unseasonable warmth. Today record highs were felt at some places in the valley. Tomorrow it could be a record here. 76 degrees is predicted. This is distressing in February, but at least I will be able to open all the windows early and leave them open late— unless, as happened today, one of the neighbors decides to burn their accumulated yard trash. The copious smoke forced me to leave the house closed up for two hours.
Despite the warmth there have been some clouds, which brought the most impressive sunset I've seen in months. The whole western sky, and much of the south, was filled with a sequence of vivid orange and red and purple, and I watched it until it faded to cerulean and the grin of the crescent moon came clear between clouds. And I didn't even have to wear a hoodie while I was watching. The evening is still fairly mild, though it will undoubtedly cool rapidly now. As pleasant as this evening mildness is, I'm eagerly anticipating the rain to come. I'll bet I hear geese flying back south when the wet nights restore winter's chill.
Sunday Verse
Rain
by Hone Tuwhare
I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain
If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut
And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind
the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground
the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops
But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you
you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain.
