Weather speak … it’s a whole new concept these days, especially after such a rainy, damp and dreary past few weeks . In fact, I think the meteorologists are trying hard not to disappoint us in their weather forecast, even though it is not as if we shoot the messenger.
I’ve been musing over this for a couple of weeks now. For example, instead of just calling for rain, the weathermen might predict a “sprinkle” or a “spritz” or even a “passing shower”. Perhaps they think the listeners are just so fed up with the wet weather that it is okay to stretch the truth a little. Why not stop being apologetic and just say “hey folks – it’s gonna rain” and get it over with? I guess I’d liken this weather speak syndrome to the first snowfall of the year when the meteorologists start slinging around the “s” word in advance of the real event.
This morning, I awoke and heard the early news. It was raining at Metro Airport, but it was supposed to turn into “sprinkles” shortly.
Ever the optimist (as to the walking regimen anyway), I got ready to go, thinking they might be wrong. I stuck my head out the door, eyeballed the sky and next put my hand out and didn’t detect any of those so-called “sprinkles”, so off I went.
Two blocks later, I felt the first drop or rain land on my nose and soon another spattered my eyeglasses. Grrrr.
I vowed not to turn back, but I decided not to stray too far from the ‘hood either.
Well, those pesky droplets continued, with the occasional one choosing to settle smack on my nose and some even splattered onto my coat sleeve.
My mom used to define those hit-or-miss spritzes as “God spitting”, and, for a gentle sprinkly-type rain, she’d declare that “God was watering his flowers up in Heaven”, so, when I was a child, I occasionally wondered why God would spit and where did he buy such a big watering can to sprinkle all his flowers? But, since I was not an impertinent child, I never asked my mom to elaborate. She wasn’t a blasphemous person in the least and I think she got these expressions from her mother, as I’d often hear my grandmother remark that “God is moving his furniture” when thunder signified a storm was rolling in. My mom liked that expression as well. I guess in the Summer months that God re-arranged that furniture along the hardwood floor alot. My grandmother used to run around the house and sprinkle holy water because her mom had done that when she was growing up.
As I walked along my usual path this morning, while artfully dodging the biggest raindrops, I carefully stepped over the occasional worm and deftly sidestepped the slimy slugs that were creating their own iridescent trails on still-damp concrete. I didn’t get soaked, but my clothes were just dampened a bit. Overall, my enthusiasm for the walk didn’t dampen and I got three miles in. All in all, I had to concede it’s a good thing it’s a wash-n-wear world we live in.