The wonder of microclimates
My post from yesterday didn't sit well with me. I didn't like how bitchy it was. So, I deleted it. But I did copy it to a Word document. It won't be lost forever. It'll be safe in my "Documents" folder on my computer. Just for curiosity's sake, for those of you who didn't see it, here's that post in a nutshell: I have a temp job, I work 8 am to 5 pm, I don't have enough time to write and be a lazy beach bum, and now I know why people snort speed.
After work I'm picking up the key to the house I'll live in. I'm meeting the woman who owns the house. She doesn't live there, but rents it to two other people. There are two extra, empty rooms, and she rented one to me. It'll be nice to finally get a place in the city, in Santa Cruz. I've been living above my cousin's garage for almost a month. I've washed about two thousand dishes in return for her hospitality, and her kids have broken my Igloo lunch pail, one of my pint glasses, and sprayed half of my shaving cream into the bathroom sink. I've gotten used to being a part of their family. I'll visit and call often, but it'll be difficult to leave their cozy, mountain home.
Mike and Christy's house is the new version of a home built in the 1920s. The original — a mountain get-away for a rich San Francisco family — was destroyed in the 1989 Loma Prieta quake. It's situated in a dense forest southwest of Los Gatos. Surrounding their home are redwood trees. The narrow roads, covered by the high foliage, wind between the steep hills. You know those car commercials with giant SUVs or sports sedans driving at night in a dense pine forest? That's what the roads around Mike and Christy's look like.
One thing I've gotten used to are microclimates. They pepper the area around San Francisco and Monterey Bays. The weather varies depending on where you are. One day last week, when it was sunny and warm in the mountains, I took off for Santa Cruz wearing a tee shirt and shorts. When I got halfway down the mountain I could see the thick, gray cloud cover over the bay. I rolled my window down and felt the air with my hand. It was chilly. I knew I wasn't dressed warm enough. I did a U-turn and headed back to get my Iowa sweatshirt.
Wearing layers is the key to dressing yourself in Central California (or is this considered Northern California?), especially on the coast. Every morning is foggy and cool in Santa Cruz. By midmorning the fog has burned off and the sky is sunny and clear. Often, the fog doesn't burn off until two or three in the afternoon, so the day remains cool. When the sun comes out the air warms and the temperature rises.
Of course, the weather here isn't limited to these patterns. Temperature can be different depending on where you are in Santa Cruz. When I'm downtown on sunny days I can wear a tee shirt and shorts. Afterwards, when I drive to the beach, I have to put on my sweatshirt or jacket. The wind and moisture from the bay come ashore and cool the portion of town near the coast.
For an Iowa boy like me it's taken time to acclimate. I think ahead now. In the morning I put my jacket or sweatshirt in the back seat in case I need it. I learned that the hard way.
One thing I won't miss about moving from Mike and Christy's is the drive into town. They live fifteen miles north of Santa Cruz. The highway twists and turns its way through the mountains, and all the bumps, dips, and potholes in the road have begun to cripple my car. But it's fun driving through three different climates in the morning. I'll miss that.
After work I'm picking up the key to the house I'll live in. I'm meeting the woman who owns the house. She doesn't live there, but rents it to two other people. There are two extra, empty rooms, and she rented one to me. It'll be nice to finally get a place in the city, in Santa Cruz. I've been living above my cousin's garage for almost a month. I've washed about two thousand dishes in return for her hospitality, and her kids have broken my Igloo lunch pail, one of my pint glasses, and sprayed half of my shaving cream into the bathroom sink. I've gotten used to being a part of their family. I'll visit and call often, but it'll be difficult to leave their cozy, mountain home.
Mike and Christy's house is the new version of a home built in the 1920s. The original — a mountain get-away for a rich San Francisco family — was destroyed in the 1989 Loma Prieta quake. It's situated in a dense forest southwest of Los Gatos. Surrounding their home are redwood trees. The narrow roads, covered by the high foliage, wind between the steep hills. You know those car commercials with giant SUVs or sports sedans driving at night in a dense pine forest? That's what the roads around Mike and Christy's look like.
One thing I've gotten used to are microclimates. They pepper the area around San Francisco and Monterey Bays. The weather varies depending on where you are. One day last week, when it was sunny and warm in the mountains, I took off for Santa Cruz wearing a tee shirt and shorts. When I got halfway down the mountain I could see the thick, gray cloud cover over the bay. I rolled my window down and felt the air with my hand. It was chilly. I knew I wasn't dressed warm enough. I did a U-turn and headed back to get my Iowa sweatshirt.
Wearing layers is the key to dressing yourself in Central California (or is this considered Northern California?), especially on the coast. Every morning is foggy and cool in Santa Cruz. By midmorning the fog has burned off and the sky is sunny and clear. Often, the fog doesn't burn off until two or three in the afternoon, so the day remains cool. When the sun comes out the air warms and the temperature rises.
Of course, the weather here isn't limited to these patterns. Temperature can be different depending on where you are in Santa Cruz. When I'm downtown on sunny days I can wear a tee shirt and shorts. Afterwards, when I drive to the beach, I have to put on my sweatshirt or jacket. The wind and moisture from the bay come ashore and cool the portion of town near the coast.
For an Iowa boy like me it's taken time to acclimate. I think ahead now. In the morning I put my jacket or sweatshirt in the back seat in case I need it. I learned that the hard way.
One thing I won't miss about moving from Mike and Christy's is the drive into town. They live fifteen miles north of Santa Cruz. The highway twists and turns its way through the mountains, and all the bumps, dips, and potholes in the road have begun to cripple my car. But it's fun driving through three different climates in the morning. I'll miss that.
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