My sisters use the word “scratchy” to refer to mild irritability. I often find myself scratchy in June and I blame it on the weather.

Here’s a note I wrote on the morning of June 1, grateful for coffee gifts, old and new, but grumpy about the atmosphere.


Saturday morning: Thank you, Hope and Susan. I am at the moment drinking my regular Whiting Coffee from Albuquerque (in the “Fresh Roasted” bag at rear) but your gifts are helping to keep my spirits up, after a glorious May, on this prototypical first day of June: Heat, smoke and gunfire echoing up the Las Huertas drainage from the Santa Ana Tribal Police shooting range. I am already covered in summer-onset bug bites but hoping for afternoon rain

Sunday morning update: Don’t judge the weather by the cloud cover: No rain yet; long sleeves and pants for bug deterrence on last night’s walk; face mask for gusty winds; 45 percent humidity, ugh. Whoever coined the “dry heat” wisecrack wasn’t around here in June. I will dance when the monsoons arrive. For the time being, I am, of course, blaming high pressure from Texas.


These are called mammatus clouds, photographed Sunday afternoon. They didn’t deliver. Typical pre-monsoon posing. All hat and no cattle. But is that a funnelito descending at right?

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