One day, it's 90, and the sweet olive trees are blooming, wafting delicious scent; the next we wake up and it's in the low 40s, grey, windy, damp cold, and all the blossoms have dropped off the sweet olive. No segue, just wham, and everyone's digging out the sweaters. I can't get used to the way the seasons change so suddenly down here. Next day the ground was littered with pecan leaves, which makes hunting the last round of pecans to fall more difficult.
The hums are pretty much gone. A ruby-throat now and again, but they seem to be passing through, and they don't stop at the feeders but prefer the few lilies that are still bravely in bloom. I'm keeping 2 feeders stocked just in case. I miss the little guys, hope they are living it up in Mexico.
Speaking of Mexico, I can't shake a Jolie Holland song called "Mexican Blue" from my head. It's lovely and sad and I don't care if she is mannered, I like her voice, and I like this lyric, because there is a mockingbird behind my house, too:
There's a mockingbird behind my house
Who is a magician of the highest degree
And I swear I heard him rip the world apart
And sew it back again with his fiery melody.
Compensation for the cold mornings comes in the glorious afternoons, when it warms to the low 70s and the last couple of days the sun broke through the murk and all I want to do is be outside, accompanied by the mental soundtrack of Mexican Blue. We have had a couple of killer rainbows the last few weeks. The levee is the perfect stage set for that. Each time I was tempted to run for the camera but it seemed more appropriate merely to stand at the end of the driveway and admire.
You're like a saint's song to me
I'll try to sing it pure and easily
You're like a Mexican blue
So bright and clear and pale in the afternoon
In the afternoon
Family is safe in San Diego. Not seriously worried about them since they are on Coronado surrounded by the ocean, but they have a lot of nasty smoke and ash and of course proximity to chaos. What a mess. I hope California has a better time with FEMA than we did, but things like fake press conferences make one unhopeful.
Birthday yesterday, uneventful. I have a shiny new bright yellow cart--kind of a grown-ups version of the red wagon--with which to pick up sticks in the yard and haul the recycling down the driveway, etc. I took Beckett for a ride in it. It made him a little nervous but then he seemed to enjoy it. Scout will have nothing to do with it, but he never was much one for getting up on things except getting into the car. My plan is to pull Beckett around for company and he can mind the sticks I pile up in there with him. Maybe I will paint the cart Mexican blue.
And I waited for the wind to push the hurricane
Out to sea, and the sun could shine again
