Not a "dry heat"
July 19, 2009 | The low temperature last night was 95°F., but that's not the story. The story is how absolutely foul the atmosphere is this morning.
When I moved to Palm Springs I vowed that I would not pay attention to the weather, particularly the temperature. Watching the TV weather reports, which use enthusiasm and intensity to compensate for the lack of anything new or noteworthy to talk about, only convinces a person to feel uncomfortable. I would not obsess, I said, like my parents who, at the other end of the thermal scale in the land of Lake Woebegone, spent much of their retired time checking and re-checking the outdoor thermometers mounted on all four sides of the house: "-23° on the north side." "Only -22° on the south...."
It's very simple, I would explain. You just go about your life, and one or two days — maybe three — of the summer you'll walk outside and say, "Maybe tomorrow. Today I think I'll stay indoors and enjoy a cold beverage."
I'm used to getting up in the morning and taking my laptop and coffee out on the patio to watch Mother Nature's light show as the sun comes up over the canyon and replaces the starry canopy overhead with startlingly clear blue.
This morning, however, when I opened the slider a wave of hot, fetid, humid air rolled in, air so thick the walls of the canyon were invisible, the very definition of miasma. You know you're in trouble when you can't even see the mountain that's right in front of you.
The Brunch Bunch plans to go up to Idyllwild today. We could not have picked a better day to get out of the valley.
Last updated on Aug 24, 2016