This was written yesterday evening. I look back deliriously from 4 pm Wednesday enjoying a comparatively frigid 106F
Since getting out bed this morning I have felt confused, threatened. You? Hope not. When Vineyard -- a census designated community 5 miles from Sacramento-- between Wolfe Heights and Sloughhouse wakes its designated census to 100 degrees Fahrenheit then amps it up to 118 degrees by 3p.m. we patriotically head for the wineries. My favorite is Woodbridge Cabernet on the rocks.
Now it's nearly 6 and temperature has dropped only to 115. Short blasts of fire: Arrivals are signaled same as when you open a hot oven door. The wave of heat passes among bar patrons, trying to make our bloodstreams connect.
I return now to Wednesday and its mere 106F temperature. We live and love and enter the whims of weather, the future. I am a rational man but still,