far too much writing, far too many photos

Two days ago: July 4th dawned with blue skies, clear air, ideal temperatures. As perfect a morning as one could ask for. By midday, perfection began giving way to less wonderful things — soupy air, high humidity, skies thick with haze. The local wet blankets in the weather biz began muttering unpleasantly about dire possibilities. Hmm.

Yesterday: gray, sticky. Not very promising. The afternoon found me here working away, adorable butt planted in front of computer, radio playing in the background. The music suddenly stopped, replaced by ten or fifteen seconds of attention-catching honking sounds. In the quiet following that, a voice began issuing a severe weather warning for Burlington and vicinity, 50 or 60 miles west of here. Advising going indoors, staying away from windows, seeking shelter in a basement. Got me eyeing the skies, in light of the heavy weather hooha experienced here a while back. Ran outside, got some quick yardwork done just in case conditions here turned prohibitively damp and unfriendly later on.

Gray skies intensified, but rain held off until later in the evening when thunder began rolling around up in the cloud cover, lightning put on an impressive display. The skies opened up, the general noise level rose, satellite TV and radio fizzled out, the signals lost amid the show happening outside.

And thankfully, that turned out to be the worst of it. No power outage, no hellacious winds ripping through the area, no rain finding its demonic way in through closed doors and windows. Just a normal storm that put on a show then moved on.

Big sigh of relief.

The weird thing: somewhere in the middle of it all, my bod began feeling strange. By the time the storm began letting up, it had become clear that I’d caught a cold. A summer cold. Swell. Complete with sneezing and post-nasal messiness that prevented sleep until well into the wee hours, when I found myself in complicated, restless dreams, first situated in Spokane, later in Chicago. (Both places I’ve passed through in earlier years, places I enjoyed but have never revisited. At least in the waking 3-D world.)

The good part about the cold: it’ll pass. In the meantime, I get to drag my ass a bit, hang out on the couch with stuff to read, until energy levels head back up to normal. Proving that buried away in all that cloud cover still turning the local world gray, there’s at least one silver lining.

Madrid, te echo de menos.

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