It's hard to comprehend, having just spent a few hours outside under an achingly clear blue sky, the sun on my shoulder, that yesterday it rained.
It poured. It rained cats and dogs and frogs and squirrels and ponies. There are dead earthworms all over the patio today, apparently having crawled from their flooded homes onto dry ground. But the sun got them today. They are worm jerky.
It rained so hard that Bean Sprout did not get his usual bedtime trip out to the lawn. He had to hold it all night. (He would have freaked out there anyway.)
And yet today, there are still purple blossoms on the eggplant bush; maybe it's not finished producing. There are still serranos on the pepper plant, dead-set against turning red-ripe, but that's fine.
The pears of summer are long gone, and the oranges of winter are turning... orange!
It's sunny and warm and breezy.
But yesterday we had the first rain of the season.
And the first fire in the fireplace.