I give up.
I absolutely friggin' give up.
Forget Montebello.
This spring has turned out to be nearly as disastrous as last spring, but for different reasons. Last year, we had big frontal storms that pasted us from mid-March until sometime in May. This year, May through god-knows-when is utterly skunked by the most maddening weather I've ever seen. Every single day it's the same: Northerly wind blowing down the coastline, tiny patch of marine clouds on the western side of the Peninsula hills and Santa Cruz mountains. Utterly clear everywhere else.
Thus, MB is skunked time and again. I really love MB; in some ways, it's my favorite observing site, because it's so close to home. But it is useless with a capital U these days.
I'm gonna try to bag double stars from home. Forget driving up the hill. I miss the waxing Moon. Wake me when summer's over.
This is really making me miss the desert. I'm dreaming of the desert ranges... mmm, the Panamints.... the White-Inyos... the Black Mountains... the Providence Mountains... the Whipple Mountains... Some of these ranges have essentially never seen fog. Right now, I could really use some high pinyon-juniper woodland, some scent of creosote bush, some dry air. The kind of air that turns the bread on your sandwich to toast before you finish eating it. Anything's gotta be better than these accursed, fog-wracked Santa Cruz Mountains...
Grr, argh...
Marek
Received on Wed Jun 9 17:05:49 2004