On Thursday evening, I looked at NOAA weather so that I could plan the weekend. Fog. Showers and clouds. Rain. From here until eternity. It’s November. Then I looked out the window at the half moon in the mist. Something did not quite line up, but I figured the rains were coming.
Friday morning, there was heavy fog. One of my most avid gardeners stopped into my classroom before school to ask if we were still going out to tackle blackberries. “Yes!” I assured him. At nine thirty, the clouds broke and we had a glorious 45 minutes planting favas, pulling blackberry, weaving leaf crowns, and mulching. The sun stayed out the rest of the day. Rain tomorrow, I thought.
Saturday morning. Heavy fog. We better go out now before it rains, we decided, and walked down to the market. The fog lifted as we bought our veggies and shopped for Thanksgiving presents (I found an excellent pair of blackberry loppers for the school garden). It was lovely. After scanning the sky, I spent the entire afternoon in the front yard, harvesting persimmons, trimming grape vines, and raking leaves. It has to rain on Sunday, I thought as we came inside for the night.
Sunday morning was cloudy and humid but dry. We spent an hour on the paper and headed out for a hike before the weather changed. We climbed to Dimple Hill from Oak Creek, admiring the deep golden leaves of the Big Leaf Maple and the greeny gold on the alders. The deciduous trees really stand out against the firs in November. At the top, we looked out over waves of puffy grey clouds and blue green hills and listened to people pose with their dogs for a photo and headed down for lunch. No rain.
It is Sunday evening. We have to go grocery shopping and it looks like the rain will hold off until we come home. We may even big good through Monday.
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