Well, the a/c is officially OFF at our house, we haven’t used it for at least a week. While September can produce 100 degrees, it’s not the same 100 degrees you get in August – for one thing, it doesn’t last as long.
A month ago, I was busting it out the door at 5 am, trying to catch a glimpse of the Giant, now he dances across my yard until almost 6:30, dogs yapping at his heels.
There’s still a hint of wet smoke in the air, but it’s not suffocating like before.
My husband and I are in a panic to get out of Chico by next Spring. Hah – get out of Chico! Yeah, we still have to buy groceries and gas, and we’ll still have to have our PG&E hook-up, but I’ll steal a line from Sugar Bowl ski resort – “It’s different up here.”
For one thing, there’s no freeway two blocks away, no constant screech of fire trucks following ambulances – in Chico, the constant din only lets up long enough, at some point in the wee morning, to make a person realize just how noisy the town is the rest of the day.
You can only really “hear” two things in Chico – the train, and only in the morning, and the race track, usually only on Friday or Saturday night. Oh yeah, two other things – a few times a year, you can hear the fireworks displays from the Chico Heat games or the racetrack. The rest of the time, it’s just a blur of noise.
Up in the hills you can hear one car crawling up out of the canyon at 9am, or 3pm, no matter. In the wee hours, you can hear the wind roaring up out of the canyon. Or you can hear a fox calling, or an owl. You can hear a neighbor a half mile away open their car door and start their engine.
Sometimes voices drift over – a good sound, not intrusive. We know when our neighbor Jerry comes out his front door almost every morning because his horse whinnies.
He says he can hear me tearing it up in our yard with the dogs – he put his hands together imitating my “clap clap clap”. I always clap to get them excited.
I try to use my campground voice here, I talk kind of loud usually. I like to whoop and holler and sing songs like “Honey let me be your salty dog!” like June Carter Cash. But here I try to keep my jubilance to myself.
Yesterday we switched to flannel sheets and got the comforter out. It’s already 10 degrees cooler up here, with highs in the 70’s. It’s 60 in the shack right now, I had to dig out my fleece shirt.
Oh sheesh, I think I’m already missing Summer.