We've been on our European vacation since mid-June. We won't be home again until toward the end of July. In that time, we've enjoyed loads of sun in France and mostly sun in southern England. We've been in northern England for about 10 days now. We usually see the sun in the early morning and then we rarely get another glimpse at it until later in the evening. In between those times, it rains. And rains. And rains. On a good day, it's cloudy.
We have lowered our standards on what a good day is weather-wise. At the rather quaint amusement park of Camelot, we hoped only that it was cloudy. On the short drive there, it was pouring rain at times. But it was cloudy at the park, thankfully, until the very end, when the sky opened up and threw the rain down.
The boys were go-karting with their older cousin Christopher and their Uncle Chris. They got to do 15 laps. For the first few laps, it was merely drizzling. For the next few laps, it was raining. For the final five laps, it was pouring. Did anyone ever stop? Nope. They had fun regardless of the weather.
I think that sums up our attitude nowadays: it doesn't matter what Mother Nature is doing, we're on vacation and we're going to have fun, damn it! Further proof of that new view of life is the fact that I'm wearing my Reefs whenever we go out. It's summer, and I'm going to wear summer clothes and shoes. So there!
Back at the ranch, Pete is sweltering in 105 degree sunshine. He says it's so hot you can eat the air. Add the smoke from fires throughout California, and he's found himself chewing ash, really. On a good day, it's a 40-degree difference between our locales. He wishes he could have some of our chill and rain. And I would kill for warmth.
Ah, the grass is always browner on the other side. [Yes, I know it should be "greener," but it's summer in California, and that means it's browner than brown on the hills and everywhere you turn.]