It’s raining

Talking about the weather is the most pointless pastime imaginable. You must accept the weather, not discuss it. He doesn’t care about opinions, he just is. However, if we take into account the climate catastrophe – how could it be without it? – then, of course, there is no more important topic than the weather with all its consequences and extremes. However, it annoys me when friends ask me what temperature they can expect when they come to visit me and what they should bring with them. “Everything,” I say shortly. You have to be ready for anything in San Francisco. This applies not only to the weather, but also to her. It’s not true that we don’t have seasons here. In San Francisco, we often have three seasons on the same day, all but the dead of winter.

I got lost in thick fog on my birthday in July, shivering in my fleece and down jacket. But at the end of December I was already lying on the beach in a bathing suit. That’s why I can’t help with reliable forecasts any more than the usual weather related media, apps and search features. Of course, things are different when my children announce their visit. Like this year, when my eldest son and his girlfriend decided to spend the holidays with us. My relaxed, prepared, quasi-Buddhist Californian attitude was promptly forgotten, and I mutated into a weather-obsessed animal mother. I promised them the impossible that they could have breakfast outside and celebrate the sunset on our rooftop. And you must leave your coats at home. Fortunately, my son, who also spent eight years of his life here and knows the capricious weather of Northern California, did not believe a word I said.

But none of us expected this rain. Or that one afternoon we’ll find a small lake in her guest room and spend the next few hours with cleaning rags, buckets and tarps. I wrung my hands and continued to apologize, which, of course, was absurd. I didn’t cause the weather. Or still? After all, my generation bears a large part of the responsibility for the climate catastrophe with all its consequences, such as unpredictable and extreme weather conditions.

The atmospheric river passed, but the next one was already forming on the horizon. And at some point we relaxed, or rather, surrendered. We reminded ourselves that the only reasonable response to any weather is to accept it. And don’t discuss.

I’m sitting on the couch in the living room and I can hear the rain hitting the windowpanes. The path through the garden to my little house is impassable for a writer at the present time, except by rubber boat. The phone rings, appointments and appointments are cancelled. “Yes, with this kind of weather…” I gradually begin to enjoy this exceptional situation. It’s as if those quiet days between days are still going on, those days of doing nothing, of no need. It’s like the new year hasn’t started yet. With all his demands and wishes, his demands and ideas. He’ll catch up with us soon.