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Southern France
Lynn Deasy is a freelance writer, author, foodie, and garden tinkerer. She lives in a 600 year old house in southern France with her husband, Christophe. Currently, she is looking for a literary agent for her memoir CA VA? STORIES FROM RURAL LIFE IN SOUTHERN FRANCE which examines the oddities of French provincial living from an outsider’s point of view through a series of adventures that provide more than a fair share of frustration, education, admiration, and blisters…. yes, lots and lots of blisters. Lynn blogs every Monday, Wednesday, and sometimes Friday.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Will there be rain?



There’s talk of rain, and lots of it.  An air front is moving up from Spain loaded with water which is going to get blocked by a northern air mass, thus stalling right above us.  Autumnal showers are common, but this is expected to pass the norm.
It’s funny what the weather makes you do.  We prepared by bringing in heating wood, tarping the wood pile, putting some final garden items away, and taking down the laundry from the line.  There was a bit of a charged energy in the village; other people were doing the same: preparing.  It reminds me a bit of preparing for a Chicago blizzard; milk was bought, the pantry was stocked, and the shovels were placed at the ready.  Then, we sat, looking out the window and watched in anticipation, squealing with joy when the first snowflake appeared.  Right now, we’re at the window, staring up at the clouds to see what they will bring.  So, we wait.  It’s supposed to arrive Friday, but the weather has already been all over the map.  This morning it was gray, overcast, and a bit damp, but now it’s sunny, mild, and windy.  It’s as if nature isn’t sure itself what it will do.  The weather has been finicky just about everywhere this year, and this brewing storm is no exception.  For now, I say bring it on; we need the rain, and this childlike giddy of a meteorological wonder is exciting, but ask me after a few days of being housebound, having burned through all our dry heating wood, and being feed up of being wet, and I might change my mind.  Reminds me of after the snowstorm…

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