Blustery days, again...
Jan. 26th, 2006 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senoritafishThe wind was howling from east earlier in the week. Often the way I know Santa Anas, the dry winds from the desert, have arrived in the middle of the night is that I realize I'm hearing wind chimes in my sleep, from all over the neighborhood. John has been known to get up and put a rubber band around the ceramic one on our patio when the clanking gets too loud. Monday, I overslept and had to drive to work; when I changed lanes I did not so much edge the wheel over as I was pushed by the wind, or so it felt. In the fall, the winds are hot and uncomfortable; in winter they can be chilly, or occasionally warm. Santa Anas are a misery for John; they blow a bunch of unfamiliar pollens into the area, and he spends them wheezing more than normal. Often, he'll escape to the garage, doing his woodworking, because then he's forced to wear a dust mask, which he will not do anywhere else.
For myself though, I rather like them in the winter. Not so bone-chillingly cold as winds from a storm, it feels like I'm being jostled by large, friendly, invisible beasts, who want to play by grabbing my hat off my head or pushing my hair into my eyes as I'm walking. They aren't as fun when they blow a bunch of dirt in my face or toss my papers into a puddle (or knock other people's fences down), but otherwise, I don't mind them so much. When I was a kid on my way to school, I used to put my hands in my jacket pockets, then hold them out to my sides as far as I could, and let the wind push me along - I could imagine it was close to flying. In the fall, they would roll tumbleweeds down the street. Nowadays, there's barely any open space left where tumbleweeds can grow, and it seems like my hands are always too full to engage in mock flying, but I still enjoy the change in atmosphere (quite literally). The winds push all the smog out to sea, so we get a day or two of clarity, although this time it stayed a bit hazy.
Tuesday, when I did take the bus, I noticed that all the seedpods had been knocked out of the liquidamber trees in front of an empty school building. The sidewalk and lawn were covered with spiky brown balls about two inches across. Made me grateful for my thick soled clogs; walking barefoot there would not have been pleasant. The low morning sun made them cast interesting shadows, and I couldn't resist pulling my camera out of my backpack and taking a few pictures of them. The passing traffic must have though I was insane getting down on my hands and knees (and quite probably waggling my butt in the air) on the sidewalk to get on their level. I would have like to have spent more time, but I was worried my next bus was coming in a few minutes. I'd post them here, except I've misplaced the cord to download my camera and I'll have to find it first. This morning I found most of the seedpods had been swept into the gutter.
I know a lot of people don't like them. They cause damage, exacerbate wildfires, and give me chapped lips and elbows so dry I scratch people if I brush them. But they're one of the localized weather conditions that kind of says "home" to me.
For myself though, I rather like them in the winter. Not so bone-chillingly cold as winds from a storm, it feels like I'm being jostled by large, friendly, invisible beasts, who want to play by grabbing my hat off my head or pushing my hair into my eyes as I'm walking. They aren't as fun when they blow a bunch of dirt in my face or toss my papers into a puddle (or knock other people's fences down), but otherwise, I don't mind them so much. When I was a kid on my way to school, I used to put my hands in my jacket pockets, then hold them out to my sides as far as I could, and let the wind push me along - I could imagine it was close to flying. In the fall, they would roll tumbleweeds down the street. Nowadays, there's barely any open space left where tumbleweeds can grow, and it seems like my hands are always too full to engage in mock flying, but I still enjoy the change in atmosphere (quite literally). The winds push all the smog out to sea, so we get a day or two of clarity, although this time it stayed a bit hazy.
Tuesday, when I did take the bus, I noticed that all the seedpods had been knocked out of the liquidamber trees in front of an empty school building. The sidewalk and lawn were covered with spiky brown balls about two inches across. Made me grateful for my thick soled clogs; walking barefoot there would not have been pleasant. The low morning sun made them cast interesting shadows, and I couldn't resist pulling my camera out of my backpack and taking a few pictures of them. The passing traffic must have though I was insane getting down on my hands and knees (and quite probably waggling my butt in the air) on the sidewalk to get on their level. I would have like to have spent more time, but I was worried my next bus was coming in a few minutes. I'd post them here, except I've misplaced the cord to download my camera and I'll have to find it first. This morning I found most of the seedpods had been swept into the gutter.
I know a lot of people don't like them. They cause damage, exacerbate wildfires, and give me chapped lips and elbows so dry I scratch people if I brush them. But they're one of the localized weather conditions that kind of says "home" to me.
