IT RAINED

 

We certainly live in an age of miracle and wonder, it rained yesterday evening. One minute a blazing hot sun in a clear blue sky and the next, dark clouds rolling in from the West. There they were, overhead, above the Compound, but would it actually rain or was this some kind of cruel joke.

No, it was not a joke. Slow, fat, drops began to fall from the sky as the temperature went right down and then more, faster. Not with the full fury of a Texan storm but not bad either, so I went out onto the front porch to behold the sheer bliss of the thing. Rain. Beautiful.

typical Texas street scene

Then, all too soon, the rain stopped, but I'm not complaining, everything cooled right down. Let's see more of this climate change.

Happily,

LSP

SKYWATER

 

Here in Texas we call it skywater, water that literally falls from the sky, and we haven't had any since May - until this afternoon. It began slowly, tentative drops patterning the sidewalk, please don't stop, then picked up pace.

Astounded, I stood on the porch, looking out in wonder. Wow, actual rain, you could see it, and with the skywater came thunder, lightning and a sudden drop in temperature. Beautiful.

Then it stopped, but for how long. Even now, dark clouds are rolling in from the West; will they break and unleash a cataclysmic storm upon this small heat stricken country town? 

Here at the Compound we watch and wait, expectant.

Eschaton,

LSP

Vicarious Venice

 

An old musical pal texted in from Venice, "As a guest of the Biennale I get a chauffeured boat. My driver runs his boat FAST and listens to Italian METAL."

I thought about this for maybe a second and fired back, "Where's my BOAT? Dammit." He replied with another photo.

"Venice. 23:37. Quiet." It's quiet here too in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone, and a gentle rain falls upon this small farming community. We call it "Skywater." 

But back to Venice, wasn't the place supposed to be underwater by now? Someone's obviously been paying their weather tax. That in mind, more on this Venetian exploit as the story unfolds.

Vicariously,

LSP

Mashed Potato Monet

 

Two Germans from climate activist group Letzte Generation (Last Generation) threw mashed potatoes at a Monet painting, Les Meules, on Sunday at a museum in Potsdam. The weather vandals then glued their hands to the gallery wall while yelling at onlookers.

“People are starving, people are freezing, people are dying. We are in a climate catastrophe,” shouted potato protester Mirjam Herrmann, “Science says we won’t be able to feed our families by 2050. This painting will be worth nothing if we have to fight over food.”

Quite, an art critic pal from Detroit shot me a text by way of commentary:

What worries me is that these things spark trends (miscreants love trends -- I don't think I have to elaborate) which escalate as they gather momentum. It would be very easy to smash the Michaelangelo Pieta with a concealed sledgehammer. Unlike the Monet potato this is something that could never be repaired. Next thing you know galleries are on lockdown and the world's current slide towards dystopia deepens.

 

Well said. In the meanwhile, Germany and the rest of Europe are heading into a difficult winter as the cost of energy, food and everything else continues to skyrocket. That in mind, Science says feed your family or heat your home and maybe neither as Europe deindustrializes. 

Go on, glue yourselves to the wall, potato heads

All very green, which brings us back to Monet masher Mirjam. Fighting over food by 2050? I fear that sounds more than a little optimistic, Fraulein Herrmann. 

On topic, the War on Weather continues here in Texas with a full, solid, day of rain. We call it Skywater.

Gotta get back to the garden,

LSP