We're finally having what I would call, after almost nine months of residency, an ugly weather day. Monday morning I saw thunderheads over the mountains to the north and sure enough, that afternoon the wind kicked up real hard, and it thundered and flashed for about an hour, then we got a hard, brief soaker. By that evening the skies were clear. Typical Oaxacan rainstorm, only it happened during the dry season. Well, everyone says that February and March weather is crazy.

Tuesday, afternoon clouds moved in again. No thunder and lightening, but it sure did rain, enough to flood some of the streets and sidewalks and make the arroyo that runs through town flow. But the rain never really stopped, only tapered off to a drizzle for most of the night. And this morning was overcast and cold. It's still overcast and cold -- I'm wearing long pants, socks, and a wool sweater. (Now, if that's sounding a bit too dramatic, remember to frame that in the context of southern Mexico -- really, it's just a typical coastal California morning, overcast and cool. We'll survive.) I made myself a mug of tea to take with me to work, but ended up leaving it on the counter when I rushed off at 6:30. Well, without the mug I could jam my hands into my pockets to keep them warm. I crossed the Intersection of Death and got ready to say "Buenas dias!" to the friendlier of the two Hombres de Papel (brothers, or cousins maybe, that run a newsstand on the corner; we say hello every day), and after we greeted, my Hombre amigo handed me a styrofoam cup of atole to warm me up. How sweet!

(You know Oaxaqueños think it's cold when people start selling and drinking atole.)

One of the stories we heard from Jorge Friday was that when a person dies, their spirit rides up to heaven on the back of a frog and becomes a star. People's souls return to the earth with the rain. Guess some folks were keeping busy last night.