I’m sitting here in my solarium thinking there is something seriously screwed up about the weather. You can attribute it to something other than global climate change if you want, but this business of it raining every day is aggressively strange. And not steady rains, either, but instantaneous downpours of the kind formerly experienced only in tropical climates, ones that last ten minutes and overflow all the storm sewers. If it continues, the city is going to need a new infrastructure. In fact, it seems like June and July are going to have to be designated “New York’s rainy season.”
There are upsides, of course, such as the freakish clouds that appeared last weekend, like polyps in a diseased intestine–freaking people out–after the umpteenth rain storm of the week. And the rain has made my garden plot in an East Village community garden like a tropical paradise. Roses, in particular, love this weather, and Bedford-Stuyvesant is blanketed with the most beautiful display I’ve seen in years, drooping their blossoms over the sidewalks, and nearly impeding foot traffic.
But the downsides may be even more impressive. Already, I’ve seen swarms of tiny mosquitoes. Is the city going to become a hotbed of malaria and other tropical diseases? It could happen. But as that morbid thought occurs to me, I’ve got to jump up and go to the window–it’s raining cats and dogs again.