Away out here they've got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess,
The fire's Joe
And they call the wind Maria
That was the opening of a popular song by the Kingston Trio back in the 1960's.
Maria was pronounced not like the heroine of West Side Story - Mah-REE-ah, but as Mah-RIGH-ah.
Regardless of pronunciation, away out here where I live, Maria is a bitch.
I know.
I shouldn't complain.
And generally I don't.
After all, I am not plagued by hurricanes or earthquakes or ice storms or blizzards or tornadoes or (I am 80 miles from Phoenix and something over 4,000 feet higher) extreme heat or (I am 80 miles from Flagstaff and something over 2,000 feet lower) extreme cold.
But I do have wind.
Fierce, gusting wind.
The past couple of days there has been a High Wind Alert issued by the Weather Service for our area, with gusts of 50 miles per hour.
It's above 70 degrees and I sat out on the front porch for awhile this evening with a cool drink and watched the wind whipping the trees around.
It's supposed to die down some tomorrow.
Only 10 to 20 miles per hour.
Or more.
Don't trust the Weather Gods.
And don't sing me that damn song any more.
Unless you change the wind's name to Lucretia!
