I want to take a straw poll, here. Do you ever catch yourself thinking that your husband (or any guy you know, for that matter) is from a distant planet when it comes to the weather? Like maybe he’s an alien?

Men go to elaborate measures to predict the weather – ten phone calls a day to the local weather line or slavish devotion to the internet weather network. Said men are often very confident in these means of weather prediction. I have witnessed heated debates about which data gathering source is more reliable.

If I want to know what the weather is like, I stick my head out the door and look around. It works for me. If I see a good weather wind scooting down the lake, I feel confident the rain will hold off. An opposite wind with dark clouds hovering near the end of the lake is a sure sign of trouble.

I hung clothes on the line today even though Bruce assured me over the phone that it would rain. He was several miles away as he gave his dire warning. I looked out the window and said, “Lots of blue sky, here.” He replied, “No way, it’s going to rain. I just called the weather line.”

He was so sure of more rain that he had me walk to and from the turbine shed four times in order to eke out a few more amps from the micro-hydro generator.

It goes something like this. I walk up and shut the turbine down. I walk back to the cabin. I turn off the low power switch – only good if the power is lower than 15 amps. I walk back to the turbine shed and turn on a combination of two nozzles to equal 15 amps. Previous to this morning’s instructions we were running on one 10 amp nozzle. I walk back to the cabin and monitor power levels for the next hour.

Meanwhile the sun is shining – great news – I check the Outback Monitor and discover 20 amps of solar power coming in. Before the hour is up the micro-hydro power has dropped to 5 amps. Hmmm – I suspected as much. I walk back to the turbine and check the gauge. Instead of 80 p.s.i. we are at 40. I shut the turbine down and head back to the cabin. I turn the low power switch back on and have a piece of toast and a coffee. It takes a while for the pipe to refill. I head back up to the turbine shed and turn on the one 10 amp nozzle that we had running to start with.

No worries – it’s a nice day to walk back and forth and even though I seriously doubted his 98% assurance of rain and thus more power, (why is anyone compelled to put a percentage on their surety? It’s bound to come to no good.) I went along with the plan. You never know.

The day goes on – no rain and more than a few bursts of sunshine. I decide to grab an afternoon coffee and go for a walk. By walk I mean wander around the place taking pictures and sitting on my favourite benches. It’s all good. All the benches are dry, by the way. Just saying.

A fellow blogger – Jennie Orbell – recently put up a Facebook post with a photo captioned: The Original Coffee-Cup in a Tree. (If you want to follow a really hilarious author/blogger who posts on gardening, her life adventures and all things in between, please follow Jennie.) I was inspired. I went out that very afternoon and put two teacups in shrubs. Can’t even imagine what Bruce will say when he notices these. I might get lucky and that elusive rain will hide all.

Oh double drat – the rain came while I was writing. I’ve got to rescue those clothes.

Is a prediction delayed still a valid prediction?