... write about the weather.
Today is one of those bright and fine weather days that you do want to write about: the sun is bright, there's a cool wind blowing in, enough to warrant a polar fleece vest over one's T-shirt. It predicts the cold winds of winter, that's for sure.
The sea is a mild blue, somewhere in between the gentle colours of summer and the deep, hard blue of winter. The Gulf islands have taken on a greener hue, the rain has made a difference, turning them from the desolate, desperate dry brown we saw over the summer.
I cannot see any clouds at all from where I sit - the sky has a milky softness, brighter on the horizon and deepening slightly to what I used to call, when I was little, a 'lemon-meringue pie filling' blue (not sure why I did that - maybe it was something about the smoothness of the lemon filling, the way it filled every part of the crust, a delight to cut into and eat ...).
There are a lot of people out today. The weather brings us onto the street and beach, the kids are back on their skateboards and playing touch in the road; home handy-men are hammering their nails and the lady over the road is trimming her lawn with an edger. My neighbour has just headed out to do her grocery shop.
'I needed to get out,' she said, 'and shopping for food is the only thing we can do - at least the weather is nice while we wait outside in the queue.'
The older couple I see most days - he is on a walker and she steadies him - are on their way down to see what Ernie is up to at the beachfront house and I must confess, I am curious too and will venture out soon to check it out.
At least we will always have the weather. Some things never change in spite of viruses and wars and riots and world calamities. Sometimes the weather is the cause, but we won't write about that here because today the weather is clement, kind, soft, gentle and we can feel it sustaining our spirits for another day at least.
I think fine days are expected for a while yet and that is good.