by Dr. David Fialkoff, Editor / Publisher

The rains came early this year, cooling everything off as they always, mercifully, do. Two weeks ago, I started to write about it:

Evaporative cooling works... best in a dry climate. May's brutal heat broke with that first storm of the season. Looking over the rest of what I wrote then, there were several more rainstorms that week. I'd like to tell you the details: exactly when this was, how much it cooled off and the pattern of the rain since then, but try as I might (and I have tried) I can't find the weather that was online, not even yesterday's.

I first noticed this Orwellian meteorological "memory-holing" when I was splitting my time between Connecticut and Vermont, when, safely situated down south in southern New England, I wanted to know how much snow fell in the most recent storm up north.

With a click of a mousepad or touch-screen you can find an hour-by-hour forecast of today's weather or a forecast for the weather to be for next seven to ten days; but go try to discover what yesterday's weather was wherever it is that you once called home.

Weather forecasting is like political punditry; "Yes, we were horribly wrong, but this time you should believe us." Maybe they are eager to hide their mistakes. Or maybe it's a symptom of our youth-oriented, forward-looking, new-and-better culture; "Who cares about the past?"

Here in San Miguel, it's been overcast for the last 10-12 days. (I'd like to tell you exactly how many days, but I can't find the information online.) Very much, and unpleasantly so, the persistent overcast reminds me of New England. Day after day passes without a glimpse of the sun. Evenings and mornings are chilly. Nights are downright cold. I put another blanket on the bed, and fished my long pants out of the closet.

As far as I understand it, the rainy season arrives when summer's rising temperatures evaporate more water off of the Gulf, and that air, blown inland over us, can't hold the moisture when afternoon's falling temperatures cool off the atmosphere.

Earlier this year, I claimed in an article that anyone who thinks that artificial intelligence is about to consciously take over the world doesn't know much about artificial intelligence (or is a geek). Here I'll state that anyone who thinks that we understand the weather, or climate modeling, doesn't know much about climatology.

Each afternoon I ride my bicycle around the neighborhood along a route that first goes downhill and then goes up. Alone as I am the rest of the day, on these outings I take any opportunity to interact with people. One Monday afternoon, a couple of weeks ago before these clouds, the outer edge of a hurricane, blew in, I was doing just that, when, while I was pedaling my way slowly up hill, I called out to a man standing on the (wide) sidewalk some way in front of me asking if it were going to rain. "No," he confidently replied, "Miércoles [Wednesday]."

Truly amazed at his ability to predict the future, huffing and puffing as I rode by, I called back, "Brujo [you're a witch]." His hearty laughter trailed after me. Never thinking to consult the weather forecast, I often forget that there is one.

Similarly, decades ago, walking down a street in Greenwich Village, my friend brought me up some stairs into the front room of a brownstone, into a gypsy's parlor where he had his palm read. After that the madame looked at me as if it were my turn. I told her, "I don't want to know my future. I'd rather be surprised."

What I would like to know is why the rains came early this year. I wonder if it was due to moisture blowing in front of the hurricane. I can't remember the timing. I wish I could go online and check, but "they" want to keep "us" facing forward.

I only know that this overcast is due to a hurricane because, in conversation with my daughter, she informed me that such was the case. I don't follow that kind of news. I don't even notice the forecast displayed before I type in my password into the computer each morning.

Later, my meteorological database swelled again when my gray-haired neighbor, Oscar, the patriarch of the family living on the other side of the lot next door, sitting on his front stoop, told me that the current hurricane was hitting Jalisco, but another is approaching Michoacán.

Yesterday, after some half-hearted drizzle, morning clouds broke and the sun broke through. As we used to do in cloudy Vermont, I rushed outside to absorb some rays. Then, also yesterday, in a rare move here in Mexico, I rode my bicycle up the sunny side of the street.

Today, rising early, I can attest that for a short while the sun did shine through the clouds. But now heavy, misty clouds crown the Picacho's Mountains south of town, a breeze is blowing, and it feels, again, like rain.

I'm going to make myself another cup of tea, keep my long pants on and, as Mexico has taught me, try not to think too far ahead.

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Dr. David Fialkoff presents Lokkal, our local social network, the community online and off, Atención robustly reborn for the digital age. If you can, please do contribute content, or your hard-earned cash, to support Lokkal, SMA's Voice. Use the orange, Paypal donate button below. Thank you.

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