When we lived in Vegas I used to joke that the weatherman should just bring several changes of clothes to work , say, “Clear skies, hot, and dry!” seven times, then go home.
In Cuenca it’s the polar opposite. The meteorologist here trying to predict the weather should qualify for hazardous duty pay.
For the second day in a row the wind is blowing like a son of a bitch. And even though the sky is fairly clear I just heard thunder somewhere. Or maybe that was yet another person shooting off fireworks for no apparent reason. (Sigh----)
A couple of days ago it was balmy and beautiful during the morning hours. Then in the afternoon we had a drenching thunderstorm, followed by a hailstorm combined with the thunderstorm, concluding with sunshine again.
An umbrella here is as essential a part of your wardrobe as your underwear. Like the old American Express commercials, you “don’t leave home without it.”
Still, the temps are now consistently warmer. Hopefully our heated mattress pad can go into hibernation for a long while, and I won’t have to walk around here with a bathrobe on top of my clothes.
For a place that supposedly “has no seasons” Cuenca’s certainly been doing an excellent job lately of pretending otherwise. Our “winter” was, minus the bone chilling cold associated with the season in many places, downright wintry. Chilly, wet, and gloomy.
Now it’s springtime, the weather’s warming up, plants and trees are blooming, and we’re blessed with glorious sunsets once again.
Living here contains so many surprises that it wouldn’t even be appropriate for the weather to be predictable, now would it? All part of the fun, I say.