SPRING APPEARED over the past few days. I’ve sported short-sleeved shirts thrice. One is brown-checkered, one yellow-checkered and the third was a rose-colored linen.
We’ve replaced winter’s goose-down comforter on the king bed with a wool blanket that, we discovered on the first night, was inadequate for the cool air that flows in the window.
Another blanket will go atop it, but the goose down is retired till next winter. Short sleeves are in order for daytime.
Spring on the mountaintop brings numerous changes. One is the hour switch, that irrational nonsense that soldiers on yearly out of pure inertia. That happens next weekend.
Yes, the schedule is slightly different than what happens north of the Rio Bravo.
People tend to think — people who do not live here — oh, boy! Springtime! Fact is that it’s the worst season. It gets stuffy in the afternoons and evenings, and then there’s the dust.
The rainy season changes all that, cooling things off and inspiring Mother Nature to go full-tilt green. It’s nice.
That arrives in June.
Since we built the Hacienda 13 years ago, we’ve had endless problems with the downstairs veranda flooding from water that runs in during downpours.
Finally, we’ve done something about that. It’s a two-prong solution, the greater of which you see in the photos:
Common sense would have had them installed long ago, but common sense often is in short supply in our house.
The second prong is work done on the floor under the fourth arch you see in the photos, the rear, left.
It’s an entryway and previously was flat, providing a sweet path for blown-in rainwater. It now has a gentle incline urging rainwater outward instead of inward. Duh!
I’d like to jump completely over springtime every year, going straight from the goose-down comforter and coats to the rain of cool summer. But the Goddess ignores my opinion.
But by October, we’ll be asking, Who’ll Stop the Rain?