I had two consecutive days there where I felt somewhat human, alas, it did not last.
I am now reduced to a mere puddle of protoplasm desperately clinging to my beloved portable A/C unit.
And we have a choking smoke pall to deal with as well. This is a significant piece of information because …
… There are two major meteor showers every year. The Leonids which fall, (heh) in November, and the Perseids, which fall, now.
I am enamoured of meteor showers, and have been since a small child. They’re the only extra-terrestrial visitors we can count on. Since we have been living here on Widder Island I have not seen either of these showers once. It rains in the summer (or at least it used to) and snows in the winter. Both types of precipitous events have conspired to deny my will, until this year.
Clear skies were forecast. The waxing moon (what there was of her) would be annoying folks on the other side of the planet. I set up a comfy chair in the front yard, communed with the Summer Tree, and waited for the wee small hours of the night when the shower would be at its most illustrious.
With tea and snacks I ventured forth to bear witness … and couldn’t see a bloody thing.
The smoke from the wildfires had finally arrived, thanks to a dastardly nor’westerly.
I squinted and peered but the only stars I saw were inside my eyelids. Broken in heart and spirit, I turned to go back inside and weep bitter tears into my pillow, when, bright enough to pierce the smoke, a single meteor streaked to its doom across the sky.
Sometimes a single shooting star is all you need
-oOo-
After the devastating ‘heat dome of 42 degrees’ at the end of June, Mrs Widds and I decided to splurge and buy a couple of ‘mini swamp coolers’ because I was adamant that when the next one hits (and it will – in fact there’s one over the Mediterranean as we speak) we wouldn’t rely exclusively on the portable A/C. Redundancy in all things is our motto.
Sunsets and smoke – not the first, and, most unfortunately, not the last
Glad you saw at least one – such a difference.
I know what it is to sell ONE book, to get ONE review, to find ONE new reviewer you can persuade to consider reading, to get ONE chapter back from the beta reader, to finish ONE new scene.
They are the little happinesses that punctuate life – and make it bearable.
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I think their singularity makes them even more precious. 🙂
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I saw one meteor a couple of nights ago, before the smoke arrived. I’m thinking the phrase “the before times” is going to apply more and more going forward.
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Yep, there’s certainly no ‘getting back to normal’ anymore. 😦
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thanks for visiting my site – wishing you all the best here 🙂
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Thanks. 😀
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Sorry about your weather, but pleased you saw one shower
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I shall treasure the memory. 😀
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The heat has been oppressive. And I fear that this is going to be the new normal for summer. Sorry you missed the meteor shower. 😦
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It did make that single one I saw extra special though. 🙂
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Ugh, I’m sorry you’ve had such a terrible summer. I must admit, every time I read about what’s happening in the northern hemisphere I worry that we’ll be due for some of the same. But at least one meteor came through for you. Stay cool. 🙂
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Wildfires (as they call ’em over here 🙂 ) and scorching temperatures are going to be part of our summer no matter where we are in the world. I suspect Antarctica might be free of them for a few more decades, but that’s not a given either. 😦
That one meteor made my night. 😀
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Yeah, I now you’re right, just trying to stick my head in the sand. No meteors for me. Just one fruit tree in blossom, the first. That’s my happy place.
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😀 How wonderful. 😀
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lol :p
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