Wednesday, October 5, 2011
That's what we call the slow, steady, soak-deep-into-the-ground drizzle that New Mexico rarely gets but always so desperately needs. If these rains do come, they do so right about now—just in time to mess with the Balloon Fiesta, cool things down at night, and send the hummingbirds still lingering at my feeders into full-on migration mode. Adios, little birdies; see you guys next year . . .
The good thing about these rains? My garden loves it. One of my rose bushes will continue its fall flush until the end of the month and my petunias and snapdragons won't stop blooming until the first truly hard frost, which can arrive as late as December. And while it often snows in the fall, it doesn't last. We'll get one, two inches, the sun comes out the next day, and the temps warm to the high 60s, low 70s. It's not unusual to eat Thanksgiving, even Christmas, dinner outside.
Our heaviest snowfalls come in February, March, and April. One year, it dumped so much snow mid April, when I went around to the north side of the house to clear the satellite dish, I was buried in a roof avalanche. That was the year we decided to put snow blocks up on the roof. Small dogs and children regularly die from large falls of snow off a roof, and while we don't have either, we do have me. Imagine if S.B. had returned from a work trip to find me missing from the kitchen and Ivan outside, resolutely planted beside this hump of snow in the shape of a ding-a-ling in a snowsuit. Funny, but kind of not really.
Also kind of not really funny? Running with Maddie in the rain. Today, she and I are scheduled for a five-miler in the hills but while I have trail shoes and gaiters, she does not. She is short and has long fur and just got back from the groomers. Yeah. You ever try cleaning mud out of a Border Collie's fur? I just don't have that kind of time.
So anyway. Tell Moi: what are your falls like?