Saturday morning, bright pink new dawn, sun in the sky, honey-dos done, what a great day to go sailing. First I’ll check the weather forecast by phone.
Ring-a-ding, connected. “Our menu has changed recently, please listen carefully…”
Mash out series of numbers to reach local marine forecast office. Human voice, female, does not sound like a machine. I ask if this will be a good day to go sailing.
“Have a good day? You may, you may,
Depending upon whether
The sun shines or the skies are gray;
I’m Heather with your weather.”
“Hi, Heather. I’m thinking of a weekend trip over to the islands. That was an interesting greeting, do you know it sounded almost poetic?”
“I always like to speak in verse
Predicting what will happen.
Rain, sleet or snow or even worse
Catastrophes, my Cap’n.”
“Just call me Skipper Steve. I can do without catastrophes, ha ha.”
“High pressure ridges cause no fear
Approaching from the West.
Seas will be calm, the winds round here
Light, balmy – that’s the best.”
“Good enough for me, I’m strictly a fair-weather sailor.”
“But later on, the jetstream might
Induce a local trough
With gusty breeze throughout the night.
Seas could be getting rough.”
“Uh-oh, that’s not quite so good.”
“By dawn a winter storm draws nigh
And you could see some snow
But only showers. By-and-by
The wind will cease to blow.”
“A winter storm? In June? You gotta be kidding me, Heather.”
“Becalmed you’ll be, at least ’til noon,
Surrounded by thick fog.
That’s typical for early June
But mark it in your log.”
“As fog burns off large clouds will form
That may be truly frightening
Building into a thunderstorm
With thunder and with lightning.”
“Heather, I’ve got to know if you’re for real. I don’t want to be hit by lightning, but I don’t want to cancel my weekend because you’re pulling my leg.”
“With climate change it’s hard to tell
The chances of tornadoes
But waterspouts might very well
Be found around Barbados.”
“Barbados? For chrissake, I’m in California’”
“Tsunami waves? Most likely not
Predicted for the morning.
Hurricanes? Unlikely, but
Perhaps…with global warming?”
“Extended outlook is unsure
So take whatever comes
And manage somehow to endure
Seasickness [try some Tums].”
“Tums? What are you on, Heather m’girl?”
“I hope this forecast gave you joy.
I trust I did not blow it.
Thank Heather with an ‘attaboy!’
For I’m your weather poet.”
I hung up, changed my entire plan for the weekend and drove instead to the meteorological office. Who needs to go sailing alone when he can fly high with a girl like Heather?
Copyright 2016 Flight of Eagles