Cats, Definitely

Day 310: No dogs were in evidence, but it was definitely raining cats as Merry ricocheted off every available surface in the house with the possible exception of the ceiling, and I'm not quite sure he missed that. Our weather went from partly cloudy to pitch-black dark over the space of a quarter hour, followed by thunder, lightning and a cloudburst which dumped approximately three-quarters of an inch of rain in ten minutes' time. By the time it was done, over an inch had accumulated in the pluviometer. The rain fascinated Merry as it flowed in rivers down the windows, but the thunder and lightning terrified him. It was a new and altogether frightening experience for him, and he was sure it was something I was making happen. As he bounced off chairs, walls, forbidden surfaces, he would launch attacks on my leg in passing, biting if he could, or nearly taking me down with a flying tackle from behind. I managed to drop the Containment Blanket over him at one point, and held him in my arms with just his head sticking out as I spoke softly and comfortingly to him to calm him down. Even after the storm subsided, he was wound tight as a clock spring until bedtime arrived. Then, he dropped like a rock and slept straight through until 4 AM. We don't often get powerful storms here like this one, and I have to admit that had I not been intensely focused on trying to project a sense of security to my poor kitty, I might have been a little frightened myself.

Windy Days

Day 89: It's blowing again. My yard is full of small branches (I've dragged the big ones away). Earlier this week, I had to tie my wheelie-bin to the back porch because it kept blowing over, even with a paving stone laid on the lid. January has brought higher gusts and stronger sustained winds than any month in the previous year. The power has been out a couple of times, although today it's just flickering occasionally, but to be on the safe side, I've cooked extra food, made a pot of coffee and filled a flush bucket. Warm temps mean I don't have to worry about heat. Our high winds appear to be related to the "atmospheric river" systems currently slamming California, and although January is usually one of our "flood months," at least we're not getting the rain.

The Horse And The Barn Door

Day 122: Again I am grateful to friends for their efforts on my behalf. My 25-year old Davis Weather Monitor II picked the most inconvenient time to die, i.e., while we were having the torrential, flood-and-landslide producing rains a week ago. I have been keeping weather records since March 1975 with very few gaps when one station or another ceased functioning and sent me hunting for an affordable replacement, but even in the interim, I recorded daily temperature and estimated wind speed as well as commenting on "notable occurrences" such as snow, thunder, or even the occasional earthquake (yeah, I know...that's not weather). Charting the data has been as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. In the Pacific Northwest, rainfall is arguably the most important piece of data to record and while a plastic gauge provides a close approximation of the amount, it's less accurate than I'd like. It was time to replace the station, and I opted for another Davis, the low-end Vue. It arrived today and I managed to get it installed on the pole erected by Joe Dreimiller without mishap, although he had made it look easy to swing a sixteen-foot piece of galvanized water pipe into position. Neither of us considered that he had the advantage of an additional foot in height. For a minute or two, I felt like Archimedes' fulcrum as I tried to get the pipe back into its brackets, but I am happy to say that the job is done and the station is reporting...wirelessly even, although I won't be hooking it up to the computer. Call me old-fashioned. I like paper records that I can pore over when I'm stormed in and the power's out, trying to determine from my graphs if the current weather is part of an established pattern or just a temporary trend.