Cold rain

Sure looks like spring in our town! I think to myself every year that there's no prettier place in May than southern New Jersey (I realize that this is open to debate). All the fruit trees are in full flower, the azaleas are going wild, and the rhododendron are beginning to burst into bloom.

And it's no surprise, is it? Because it hasn't done anything but bloody rain, it seems like for weeks.

I have several friends who are pluviophiles -- they love rain in any circumstance. Now, I leave you to make your own decision -- but it seems significant to me that both these friends lived for periods in Britain. I've been there several times, and I did see the sun there. But not for long. It made a cameo appearance, let's say.

Rain isn't a bad thing, unless you're in Texas, where flooding has been out of control lately, and that's been tragic for Texans in some cases. I could cope with rain. I could sit on my porch with tea and a book, listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops.

 I could, if it weren't also cold. Not many days have been above the 50s lately. So it's not only rain, but it's cold rain, the kind that forces you to paw frantically through the (neatly put away) winter clothes every morning to find something to wear. Cold rain and a wind that whips wintrily (is that a word?) over the elevated commuter train platform in the morning. Am I having fun yet?

The nice folks at Accuweather say that we can blame our dismal weather on something called an "Omega block." This happens when the central jet stream swings way north into Canada -- so that the center of the U.S. is warm and dry -- but then swings back north along both coasts (the left and right portions of the omega), bringing low pressure and rain.

The Omega block is sitting right on my chest, like a cat waiting to be fed. And we have more days of this coming.

Is that mildew between my toes?