My dream yesterday turned out not to be prophetic, at least not as yet. Again, the gray skies prevail, and weepy little drizzles come and go, and the autumn sound of dripping leaves is unending. If I didn't enjoy morose weather so much, I'd be thoroughly depressed by now. Instead, it's an excuse to bundle up and sit on the porch with a cup of hot tea, enjoying the contrast between the hot liquid and the cold air. I'd enjoy it more, though, if I were in Pasadena, on the porch of one of those big old shingled bungalows. I've never found a better place from which to enjoy rain than one of those houses which was designed to protect from the hot California sun. Mmm, I'll bet the scent of the carob trees is quite strong now, if it is raining there too. Oddly, I never much liked that smell when I was there, but now it is one of the things about Pasadena that most often comes to my mind, especially this time of year. I wonder if carob would grow this far north, and at this elevation?
oh, yeah. sorry about the pun in the subject line.