Most people love the weather on the central California coast because it's very similar to a Mediterranean climate - they say it's not too hot or humid (people are sissies about hot weather, whereas I have a 30+ degree comfort range - anything from 75 degrees and up is fine with me). But it rains buckets from November to May (well, not this year, but this has been an very unusually warm and dry winter), and I mean cold rain. I hate cold rain. Santa Cruz sucks balls in the summer because it's usually fogged in and not sunny and I am not down with wearing a hoodie in July. NOT DOWN.
Summer in the Santa Cruz mountains, on the other hand, totally rules because it's hot, dry, and my garden suddenly realizes that it's awesome out and puts forth massive quantities of fruits and vegetables, especially tomatoes. However, hot weather doesn't usually arrive until June (my definition of hot is anything above 80 degrees), sometimes July, and only lasts until maybe September, and then our property gets real dark because all the redwood trees get in the way of my sunlight (cursed north-facing mountain slope), and I become a hermit because I hate living in the trees when it's dark and wet and chilly. Redwood trees are amazing wonders, they really are, but they're just too fucking tall. And evergreen. It's like a canopy of darkness.
This is all a really long-winded way of saying that I'm super jealous of the weather out at the holler right now. I keep track of it everyday on my Weatherbug app on my phone. We did get a few pretty awesome weeks of hot winter weather here in Shitty California (all the deciduous trees are really confused right now), but then that ended and the rain started. We don't even get real thunderstorms here. I LOVE thunderstorms.
When we were out at the holler last September, we were chillin' on the porch with my folks and our friends from Knoxville (who are searching for the perfect piece of dirt in Hancock County, too, because they know how awesome it is), and it was raining (WARM RAIN) and thundering so hard that we had to yell to hear each other. I mean really yell. It got to the point where conversation was pointless - like being drunk at a punk show and trying to explain to the person next to you about how awesome the band is (and complain how watered-down the drinks are - unless you're cool like me and drink straight whiskey or gin martinis with pickled onions).
When my MiL and I were out there last July, it was supposedly the hottest weather they had experienced in 20+ years, and I slept like a baby every night with the fan on and was able to function just fine during the peak heat of the day. It's not like I was slaving away shoveling manure or anything, but you get my point.
|Sun, heat, thunderstorms: BLISS.|
Agh, I'm done complaining. I should not complain so much. It is not healthy to dwell on things you cannot control. Let's just say that I can't wait to get out there and leave it at that. Bring it on, Cold California Rain, you can't squash my excitement! Warm Tennessee Rain, I embrace your humidity with open, sweaty arms and can't wait to bask in your thunderstorming awesomeness.