I live in Northern California, in the central valley. This is not southern, 78 degrees and breezy, California. Nor is it fogged in until noon, sunny until four, fogged in until noon, San Francisco. But the climate here is mild enough.
Well, that is only half true. The summers are so hot small children have burst into flames crossing the street.
The winters however, remain uneventful compared to the mountains and mountains of snow blanketing most of the northern hemisphere lately. The main feature of winter here is the cloudy sky. By winter, I mean mid-December through mid-February, because that is really all we have to offer. Almost every day of those two months is overcast. High, dull, impotent clouds. Broken up sometimes by fog. Sometimes by rain. Though most of our rain comes in early spring. Day in, day out, there is a grey blanket of gloom as far as the eye can see.
But, not today. For the first day in about twenty, the sun came out, strong. It was not warm, but it was bright. Today, I sat in a sun beam. I sat in a sun beam drinking a cup of tea and I resolved that in my next life I shall come back as a spoiled house cat, because this sitting in a sun beam thing is for me.