It’s He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-re…

This weekend, I will need to water my trees, flowers, and succulents – for the first time since Thanksgiving. Summer arrived yesterday. Well, one of our summers. We get a few of them here.

Yesterday it was 82 degrees on my front porch by 2:00pm. I wasn’t prepared for summer.  It just showed up. I’m already sick of summer, and it’s less than a day old. I know, only a fool complains about good weather…

It rained a great deal this winter. The overnight lows have wavered between crisp and, holy living f#ck, is this Colorado…?. The drought conditions which have threatened this region for a decade are receding. In 18 years here, I’ve not seen this region so grown out, so lush, and so enchanting, despite the cold temperatures.

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The dried ponds, and sand bottom creeks where I walk each day have filled, and now flow. Some now overflow. Just the sight of water, in nature, recreates us. Water can cleanse us, even from a distance. I cherish more, the water that cleanses my soul, than that which cleanses my skin.

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I’ve made it a point to spend more time than usual in these places this year – walking in the growth and near the waters. It’s become my obsession. I’ll still walk every day, as summer begins to dry my surroundings, but my walks might be less inspired.

With summer upon us, all the greens will slowly fail, and become tans, and then browns. The blooms will shout for attention for a few weeks more, then fade to crisp. It may cool again for a time, then summer will show up again in late June. The peak of life though, and the height of the waters for this year, is right now.

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I’ll long remember this winter – this El Nino which nobody predicted. I know that rain like we have had may not return for a while – or maybe never again, not like this.

At some point, probably later today, I’ll start anticipating winter once again, in hopes it doesn’t disappoint. All things must pass. In an eternal universe though, they will rise again, it’s just a question of when… Jhciacb

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From Both Sides Now…

I wake up early, 4:30am, seven days per week.   Even on days when sleeping in is an option, I’m already active at something while roosters still snore.  Though I’m up before the sun, and before most humans in my proximity, I don’t fully come to life until mid-morning.  My days must be eased into.

There is a gentleness to the marine layer which ushers in so many Fallbrook mornings between late autumn and early summer.  This grey, soupy sky sets up a transitional mood for those like me who rise early, but wake up slowly.  Though I appreciate the sun, I don’t want to see it much before noon.  In Fallbrook, I don’t have to for much of the year.

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The marine layer – this low cloud deck, is the result of warm air gathering moisture as it travels distance across the Pacific Ocean.  It eventually runs into land on the pacific coast, where it stands up and throws itself forward against the coastline, stretching out for miles over all human happenings in the form low clouds and fog.  Providing moisture to the air, and filtering out the sun’s harsh rays, the marine layer keeps the early mornings cool and makes waking early much more tolerable.

The marine layer also serves as an acoustic barrier, holding down the sounds on the ground and allowing them to resonate broadly.  Whether they are the sounds of nature, or those made by man, the sounds of the morning are crisp, even from a distance.  When a newspaper lands on the sidewalk of the house 3 doors down, it sounds as though it hits my own porch.  Roosters in my neighbor’s back yard sound like they are in my kitchen.  What few voices I hear at 5:00am are conversations between day workers exchanging greetings in the parking lot at the 7-11, 2 blocks away.

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The two distant palms on the right are in my back yard…

Despite distant noises sounding so close, or perhaps because of it, there is a peacefulness to all of this that blankets my soul.  Over a few hours of time, before and after the sun rises, I will sip coffee, write, exercise, and prep my day, all under the influence of grey skies.  I will eventually wake and walk the dog, water the garden, groom the driveway, and rake a few fallen leaves from the loquat tree, all the while feeling a peace provided by fog.

Eventually my workday begins, but it  doesn’t feel like work at all.  As I train and chat with my early morning clients, I appreciate that I get to do this with mother nature’s morning mood acting in a supporting role.

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Walking the mammal, and easing into my day…

By late morning the blanket of clouds overhead begins to separate from itself.  Small sections of blue sky appear.  By contrast, this blue appears fresh, as though the sky has just been born.  The sun lights up the sides of the clouds, and what had been grey just moments before, becomes the brightest white I’ll see all day.  Art takes place in slow motion. As this happens I sing silently to myself a single line of, here comes the sun, though the client I am with has no idea I do this.  It’s okay now, I think to myself, time to wake up in earnest.  Not only am I awake, but I am alive.  Let the day begin.

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Completely overcast just moments before this picture was taken…

No marine layer today, nor tomorrow.  As summer continues its war on spring, what had been an insurgency of an occasional hot morning in-between the cool ones, has expanded into a fully hot week, to be followed by a fully hot month, and so-on.

The marine layer will give way to summer, and the sun’s claim as god of the season will be undeniable.  The cool damp air will return in the fall, and will likely drop in a time or two as summer weather patterns change, offering a reminder of what I appreciate most about living in this region.  As the cosmic dance of the seasons waxes and wanes, it strikes a necessary balance in my life, and with my soul.  I appreciate the marine layer most of all, because it goes away, and that’s how life is…  Be well.  rc

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More casualties than survivors.  Summer’s war on spring continues…

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If you are not already a subscriber, please scroll up and do so.  Tell your friends about me — about what happens when I push the STOP button on the blender in my head.  Oh, and there’s this from Houndmouth.  Enjoy…