I've been rereading some - well, probably all - of Alan Furst's books, as I find them as both data filled and full of "oh, gee, now what damned thing will happen?", from my point of view. I bring this up as the ones I'm reading now are set in France, and the matter of drizzle and rain comes up a lot, in passing.
Now I live in a very dry place, not the most dry I've ever been to, but getting there. The Mohave in July is tougher..
On taking care, my duplex neighbor gave me a cane she had. Neat, really, and I appreciate her. The damned cane is useful for me going to the mailbox over wavy concrete. I'm splendid on reasonable concrete, and sail through grocery stores, but Albuquerque is a tad behind construction times. I don't think there is even a city planning department, or if there is, it's lame city.
Weeds, don't get me started. We have prickly spurs with our weeds here. One has to take the prickly goatheads out of one's gardening gloves...
When I first got here, I, Ms. Know it all, insisted that any of the spare water that fell in my yard should go to the aquifers, so I didn't put down black plastic and stones like everyone else. Failure to learn on my part.
What's the Bonfire about? (you might have said before, but I forgot).