Rain, rain, go away...
After almost a month back in IC, I’m beginning to wonder if it ever stops raining here.
It does — each system continues east and the clouds dissipate to reveal the baby blue sky — but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Whether a light drizzle, a steady shower, or noisy tempest, the clouds have opened almost every day since I returned. Each morning when I walk to Dan’s for dead tree editions of the P-C and CRG I have to take an umbrella because it’s either raining or threatening.
Needless to say, I’m reacclimating to weather. There is no weather in SoCal — just wet, cool, windy, cloudy, and hot variations of 80º and sunny. At one point I stopped checking the forecast because there was no need to; for months the outlook does not change. The only day-to-day variations may be a degree or two in the high or low. Don’t believe me? Go to The Weather Channel website and check the 10-Day forecast for the 92648 Zip Code.
In the three whole summers I spent in SoCal, I can remember only two freak downpours. They were both at night; two anomalies that came ashore, dropped their load, and completely dissipated. I also remember it drizzling while I drove to work one morning in July or August. Those rarities aside, it never rained during the summer. It never rained at all even when it was supposed to. After moving to HB from Santa Cruz (where it rains a lot) everyone told me January and February were the rainy months. “It will rain a lot then,” they said. But it never did. This year was the only year during my California adventure that featured a normal rainy season.
I like rain, and I missed its occasional occurrence during those long dry summer months. However, even though the drought wreaked havoc on The Golden State’s water supply, it was awesome for my running routine. Even in the winter, when it was supposed to rain all the time, I rarely cancelled runs due to a storm.
Though I have yet (knock on wood) to have rain disrupt my running here in IC, things are very different in the heartland. That old cliché about the weather in Iowa, and the Midwest in general, rings true each day: “If you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.” Or a half hour. Or hour. Or whatever people say. The point is the weekly, daily, and hourly outlook always varies. The Upper Midwest lies directly under the fluctuating path of the Northern Hemisphere’s jet stream, and air pressure systems either bring cool and dry air from the north or warm and moist air from the south. Long tracking rain and storm systems roll through the region or pop up when the conditions are right. It can be sunny and cloudless, mostly sunny with spotted clouds, partly sunny with prominent cloud cover, overcast but dry, overcast and raining, or storming with thunder, lightening, and wind. Those variations can last all day, half of the day, or part of the day. (Storms, though, are almost always short lived.)
The heat is for a different post.
Back to rain. My first reacclimating moment came the morning I drove to the Ikea in Bolingbrook, Illinois with my old man. It rained a little during the night and early morning hours, and when I walked outside to leave I noticed the grass and pavement was wet, rain continued to fall from the wet tree leaves, and I had left my car windows open a crack.
Oh, shit.
Though not many Californians do it, “cracking windows” is common in the Midwest during the summer. I’m not sure how affective it is, but the point is to leave your car windows open just a crack at the top so hot air can escape while the car is parked. Not only is it supposed to keep your car ventilated and (maybe) a little cooler, it keeps air from becoming trapped. In extreme cases, hot air trapped inside a car will become so pressurized that it can blow out windows. The catch is to remember your windows are cracked and to close them before it starts raining.
Oops.
Mental note: close your car windows all the way at night because you never know what the weather will do.
Thankfully, my forgetfulness wasn’t costly. My car was parked under a tree and not much rain had gotten in. The seats were dry, and only a few droplets lingered on the door arm rests. It was far from being as bad as the time I accidentally left my Jetta’s sunroof open all night. (Of course it had to pour that night. For days I sat on towels to keep the seat from wetting my pants.)
The constantly changing weather has taught me to once again check the forecast and radar, to stay vigilant and “weather wise.” And to think this is just the beginning of a reacclimation process I don’t expect to fully complete for at least a year. Each glorious season (hooray for seasons!) presents a different climate I need to reacquaint myself with.
Yes, I will love it. Though I wish the rain would let up for a few days.
It does — each system continues east and the clouds dissipate to reveal the baby blue sky — but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Whether a light drizzle, a steady shower, or noisy tempest, the clouds have opened almost every day since I returned. Each morning when I walk to Dan’s for dead tree editions of the P-C and CRG I have to take an umbrella because it’s either raining or threatening.
Needless to say, I’m reacclimating to weather. There is no weather in SoCal — just wet, cool, windy, cloudy, and hot variations of 80º and sunny. At one point I stopped checking the forecast because there was no need to; for months the outlook does not change. The only day-to-day variations may be a degree or two in the high or low. Don’t believe me? Go to The Weather Channel website and check the 10-Day forecast for the 92648 Zip Code.
In the three whole summers I spent in SoCal, I can remember only two freak downpours. They were both at night; two anomalies that came ashore, dropped their load, and completely dissipated. I also remember it drizzling while I drove to work one morning in July or August. Those rarities aside, it never rained during the summer. It never rained at all even when it was supposed to. After moving to HB from Santa Cruz (where it rains a lot) everyone told me January and February were the rainy months. “It will rain a lot then,” they said. But it never did. This year was the only year during my California adventure that featured a normal rainy season.
I like rain, and I missed its occasional occurrence during those long dry summer months. However, even though the drought wreaked havoc on The Golden State’s water supply, it was awesome for my running routine. Even in the winter, when it was supposed to rain all the time, I rarely cancelled runs due to a storm.
Though I have yet (knock on wood) to have rain disrupt my running here in IC, things are very different in the heartland. That old cliché about the weather in Iowa, and the Midwest in general, rings true each day: “If you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes.” Or a half hour. Or hour. Or whatever people say. The point is the weekly, daily, and hourly outlook always varies. The Upper Midwest lies directly under the fluctuating path of the Northern Hemisphere’s jet stream, and air pressure systems either bring cool and dry air from the north or warm and moist air from the south. Long tracking rain and storm systems roll through the region or pop up when the conditions are right. It can be sunny and cloudless, mostly sunny with spotted clouds, partly sunny with prominent cloud cover, overcast but dry, overcast and raining, or storming with thunder, lightening, and wind. Those variations can last all day, half of the day, or part of the day. (Storms, though, are almost always short lived.)
The heat is for a different post.
Back to rain. My first reacclimating moment came the morning I drove to the Ikea in Bolingbrook, Illinois with my old man. It rained a little during the night and early morning hours, and when I walked outside to leave I noticed the grass and pavement was wet, rain continued to fall from the wet tree leaves, and I had left my car windows open a crack.
Oh, shit.
Though not many Californians do it, “cracking windows” is common in the Midwest during the summer. I’m not sure how affective it is, but the point is to leave your car windows open just a crack at the top so hot air can escape while the car is parked. Not only is it supposed to keep your car ventilated and (maybe) a little cooler, it keeps air from becoming trapped. In extreme cases, hot air trapped inside a car will become so pressurized that it can blow out windows. The catch is to remember your windows are cracked and to close them before it starts raining.
Oops.
Mental note: close your car windows all the way at night because you never know what the weather will do.
Thankfully, my forgetfulness wasn’t costly. My car was parked under a tree and not much rain had gotten in. The seats were dry, and only a few droplets lingered on the door arm rests. It was far from being as bad as the time I accidentally left my Jetta’s sunroof open all night. (Of course it had to pour that night. For days I sat on towels to keep the seat from wetting my pants.)
The constantly changing weather has taught me to once again check the forecast and radar, to stay vigilant and “weather wise.” And to think this is just the beginning of a reacclimation process I don’t expect to fully complete for at least a year. Each glorious season (hooray for seasons!) presents a different climate I need to reacquaint myself with.
Yes, I will love it. Though I wish the rain would let up for a few days.
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