Living up here at 3272 ft, a little over a mile from the ocean has many, many challenges, it is true. Seasons truly change here. The record high for the last 15 years up here has been 117 degrees. That is beyond painful. That is curl up and die painful. I try to remember that, when temps hit the triple digits for a week straight. Frankly, my body doesn’t care what the temperature was yesterday, never mind years ago. So, my body goes searching for ways to stay cool. All involve water. I wish I had a pool, a pond, a water trough, but I suspect if I did, all the yellow jackets in Big Sur would hold a convention here. So, instead, I make do with wearing something light, cotton, and wet. Wet, as in dripping wet. Every hour. And then get inside away from the yellow jackets, who are quite thirsty this year.
I yearn for the days of winter, and possible snow. My body doesn’t seem to remember the year it got down to 19 degrees. This is California, for gawd’s sake, and Coastal California. Mother Nature forgets it is supposed to be mild and mellow here by the ocean.
Gotta go and soak. While my body likes the dripping, my computer does not.