Welcome Back, Hotter

     Good morning and greetings, midsummer fans. Growing up in the Garden State of New Jersey, we always looked forward to some brutal stretches of summer weather, when the days were blisteringly hot and the nights swelteringly warm. And when these uncomfortable conditions hit, we resorted to what the early cavemen and pioneers that settled across this great land of ours did, fleeing into the air conditioning and not exiting this cool space until the coast was more than clear. Without this game-saving process of altering the temperature and humidity in the air, we never would have survived. It was either that or spend a week in the refrigerator.

     The reason I harken back to these extreme weather conditions is because last week, the northeast corridor was virtually a giant sauna, with no wind and no rain to go along hot, sticky air. And then added to this mess was Yankee captain Derek Jeter being placed back on the disabled list because of too many beautiful ex-girlfriends.

     A heat wave is officially defined as three days or more of temperatures of 90 degrees or more, or what the locals call winter in the Sahara Desert. Early in the week, heat advisories for temperatures over 100 degrees of Kevin Bacon were issued for Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington and West Maui. Last Monday, Burlington, Vermont hit 93 degrees. Even the maple syrup was sweating. It hadn’t been that hot on that date since 1955. Last Thursday, a record was set at JFK Airport in New York when the temperature hit an all-time high for the day at the century mark. Cabbies were perspiring like IRS executives appearing before Congress.

     The National Weather Service likes to warn people when it gets hot enough bake lasagna on the sidewalk. They warned people of the dangers of heat-related illnesses, like fatigue, sunstroke, muscle cramps, heat exhaustion and being forced to stay inside and watch the idiotic reality shows the networks include in their summer programming.

     Thankfully, a cold front finally blew in late Saturday, which shoved the hot, humid air mass southward so those Confederate states could get a taste of this July magic. This cold front also triggered severe thunderstorms, of which I have fond memories of. All of a sudden, the sky would suddenly darken, and the warm rain would start pelting down while the thunder blasted away. I always liked being outside when the heat wave snapped as the air turned cooler than, in the words of ESPN’s Stuart Scott, “the other side of my pillow.”

     Elsewhere around the nation last Monday, while the east coast was frying like my parmesan crusted chicken, Texas and Oklahoma recorded their all-time lowest temperatures for July 15. And to make it even macadamia nuttier, parts of Alaska’s eastern interior were warmer than the Great Plains of Texas. The surprisingly cooler temperatures in Lone Star state were due to clouds, rain and Houston’s signing of much-sought-after center Dwight Howard. So Superman now becomes Rocket Man. Can’t wait to see what Elton John has to say about that.

     The southwest felt the extreme heat in June, as the temperature at Death Valley National Park tied the record for the hottest June day at 128 degrees. How hot was it? Squirrels were handling their nuts with potholders. Lance Armstrong tested positive for Snapple. In Palm Springs, New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg was spotted drinking a Big Gulp.

     And speaking of Palm Springs, a raging wildfire was burning six miles outside the home of Sherman’s Deli, where hot corned beef piled high on rye bread is king. There were 17 major wildfires burning 17 western states last week, making this a dangerous time for fire fighters and homeowners in these regions. Or in the words of author Robert Fulghum, “If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire, then you got a problem. Everything else is an inconvenience.”

     When it comes to scorching summers, not to be confused with the lovely Suzanne Somers, the hottest occurred during the Dust Bowl of 1936, when the average temperature was over 73 degrees. And believe it or not, popsicle fans, the past two summers have come Glenn Close to breaking that mark, as the summers of 2011 and 2012 tied for the second-hottest with an average temperature only one-tenth of a degree off the record. Only 20 times in the past 150 summers has the east coast felt a heat wave like this, or about as often as I leave my feet on the basketball court when bringing down a rebound.

     So while the scorching heat was baking the east coast, folks in Santa Cruz woke up on Monday to heavy fog, followed by a light rain falling the next day. I thought to myself, folks are sweating back east like Eddie Snowden waiting in line at the Cinnabon at the Moscow Airport, while I’m standing in the rain in 50 degree temps here on the central coast. What a country. And speaking of Eddie, heard a great line on Letterman when he asked Bill Maher about the Snowden affair. “All I know is I’m glad I’m not the guy circling the airport waiting to pick him up.”

     So for today’s photo launch, while the precipitation was falling on Tuesday, I took out my camera and recorded some of the effects on the plants and flowers in my front yard. The rain really brings out a spark in nature, as the plants are overjoyed to be receiving showers of love from the sky. The last two shots are from the Arboretum at UCSC, the place I journey to when moisture fills my heart and windshield.

     Rain is a joyous event for so many living things and often leaves me in tears. “The Little Tramp,” Charlie Chaplan put it this way,” I always like walking in the rain so no one can tell I’m crying.” Between sobs I couldn’t have said it better myself. Or as singer Johnny Nash once crooned, “I can see clearly now the rain is gone.” At this stage in life, it’s nice to see all the obstacles that are in my way.

     To check out these photos, click on http://www.SunriseSantaCruz.com/blog