Everybody’s bitching about our cold, rainy summer here but I like it. I left my umbrella at home this morning and pocketed my sunglasses instead, not because I’m an optimist, but because doing that works well to jinx the weather into raining all day.
So far so good.
It’s not a summer this year, it’s some new season. A season of lounge music, which I only recently discovered, to my everlasting pleasure. Driving in the rain this morning, laid back music threading perfectly with the beat of the windshield wipers I thought about the deer who haven’t revealed themselves in months, preferring the deep woods this time of year. Thought about them and there two does were, grazing in a field by the freeway, nut brown in the rain.
Then a Portishead number came on the car stereo to top it off. And then, in town, the garbage truck in front of me turned off and got out of my way.
I like this new season, but it needs a name.