Further to my remark moving from Irish rain to Florida rain, heres an excerpt from my upcoming book I once had a Farm in Ireland: After three years or so I stopped keeping a record of the weather. Repetition of constant rain events made me lose heart and hope for change. Most days were the same, with wind, grey clouds, showers, and the sun occasionally coming out again. The temperature range didn’t differ much either: all year round it hovered around 12 to 16 degrees Celsius. Winter months were a bit colder, obviously, with daytime temperatures rising up to 10. Disappointing summer months hardly made it to 20, mostly accompanied by variations of the rain: from soft rain that is allegedly good for your complexion—r so Mac claimed whenever it occurred—to sideways rain you can’t tolerate with a brollie. (Brollies are for wimps or tourists. Honestly, Pauline claimed that’s how you can spot a tourist). Needle-fine drizzles that spatter the country or sheets of rain that soak you to your knickers, showers that water the garden, the hard thick rain that can soak you to your skin just when running to the car from the house; the incessant rain that doesn’t know when to stop when there are weeks on end without any blue sky at all. A beautiful red sunset doesn’t guarantee a nice new day as can be expected in Germany: “Red sky at night—shepherd’s delight.” To expect such a foreshadowing would be “previous” in Ireland, i.e., premature. Much of Ireland’s summer rain events are attributed to tail ends of hurricanes in the US. “Rain in apocalyptic sheets,” I heard someone call it. The Inuit language has about a hundred words for snow, and the Irish must have an equal number for their type of rain events. IoncehadaFarminIreland.blogspot
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 15:35:37 +0000
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