Rainy Season

When I first moved to Northern California, I thought of it as having no seasons. Compared to Rochester, NY the weather was so even, winter to summer, that it was almost uncanny. Over the years, however, I have learned the subtleties of weather in NOCA and I realize that, in fact, we do have at least two seasons - the dry and the wet.

In preparation for the rains each year, my annual ritual is to go out with my new roll of white duct tape and renew the strip around the window seat that faces the winter storms. This window takes the brunt of storms that sweep in off the Pacific, so hard that they make the glass in our sliding doors flex in the wind. The wind is so strong that it actually forces rain water underneath the glass and into the window seat.  The duct tape seals the window securely against leaks. When the dry season arrives again, I strip off the spent duct tape and prepare to replace it.

This year's wet arrived a tad early. Normally, we don't get rain from April to November - the first winter rains arrive shortly after Hallowe'en. When the rain came this year in mid-October, my duct tape was not in place.

Auwe!

All the cushions in the window seat got soaked and, of course, this happened while our friend Jeanne was visiting from LA (where they truly don't have seasons), so she was treated to the sight of cushion covers drying on ladders and chair backs all over the living room. We also had the deck chair cushions gracing the living room, as those needed to be brought in out of the wet, as well. I suppose there are more depressing sights than soggy cushions but right now I can't imagine them.

Plus, when I tried to pull out the feather pillows stuffing those cushions, the pillow covers within shredded in my hand spilling feathers all over the living room. Apparently the years in the sunlit window seat had rotted the fabric inside the covers. So, Jeanne got to go to the fabric store with us while I purchased yards and yards of pillow ticking to make new wrappers for the feathers.

My Beloved hurried off to the hardware store for more duct tape and the three of us sealed the window just before the next bout of rain hit.

What has all this to do with food?  Nothing, except we cracked open the bottle of wine that Jeanne brought along as a hostess gift, made guacamole from the Fuerte avocados she grew in her yard, and put our feet up to watch the third presidential debate in a room where we couldn't see the sad, soggy pillows.