Flooding on Stenton Ave Let me paint you a picture.
It's about 5:30am, not yet dawn, not still dark. It's that time called the gloaming, between day and night. Usually, we experience the gloaming in the evening, at dusk. This morning, the light is deceiving- it's light out, but it's too dark to see.
You wake to thunder and lightning, and rain- persistent, steady, heavy rain. It's close to the time for your alarm, so you doze, and WAHWAHWHA your phone, charging next to your bed, goes berserk. An alarm blares, it vibrates like crazy. There's a flash flood warning. The air is warm, and has passed "humid" to become almost physically "wet."
Sure enough, there's detours on your way to work, creeks and streams have jumped their banks, neighborhoods are full of drivers trying to find a higher bridge. By 9am, it's still dark like it was at 7, but the rain is ending. Cicadas are humming like a horror movie.
Now, a second picture. You sleep with the windows open, and wake to bright, early morning sun. A 55-degree breeze slides over you and your bedsheet like cool water. You hear birds, and a few crickets, but little else. The air is dry, so very dry compared to yesterday that your nose crinkles inside a little. Because yes, these two pictures are only separated by 24 hours.
And that, my friends, is another reason to love PA. Sometimes August feels like July, and sometimes it feels like September.
In other news, I'm in the process of moving and downsizing my home, and I apologize for the scarce postings. I anticipate more breathing space by next week, and enough room to flail around by the end of the month. We'll dance again soon.
It's about 5:30am, not yet dawn, not still dark. It's that time called the gloaming, between day and night. Usually, we experience the gloaming in the evening, at dusk. This morning, the light is deceiving- it's light out, but it's too dark to see.
You wake to thunder and lightning, and rain- persistent, steady, heavy rain. It's close to the time for your alarm, so you doze, and WAHWAHWHA your phone, charging next to your bed, goes berserk. An alarm blares, it vibrates like crazy. There's a flash flood warning. The air is warm, and has passed "humid" to become almost physically "wet."
Sure enough, there's detours on your way to work, creeks and streams have jumped their banks, neighborhoods are full of drivers trying to find a higher bridge. By 9am, it's still dark like it was at 7, but the rain is ending. Cicadas are humming like a horror movie.
Now, a second picture. You sleep with the windows open, and wake to bright, early morning sun. A 55-degree breeze slides over you and your bedsheet like cool water. You hear birds, and a few crickets, but little else. The air is dry, so very dry compared to yesterday that your nose crinkles inside a little. Because yes, these two pictures are only separated by 24 hours.
And that, my friends, is another reason to love PA. Sometimes August feels like July, and sometimes it feels like September.
In other news, I'm in the process of moving and downsizing my home, and I apologize for the scarce postings. I anticipate more breathing space by next week, and enough room to flail around by the end of the month. We'll dance again soon.
Sunny August- St John's Wort and Calendula Oils steeping, 24 hours later
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