Honestly, I think we finally get the west plains centered area of drought and the ridge I've looked for out west this season. I think we are going to have a difficult time getting large scale heat to setup over anywhere in the interior south to say ENE through maybe the Appalachian region. There's a lot of evidence supporting strong tropical intrusions later in the year and that has me concerned if I'm honest. Those threats look like they'll be confined to maybe TX/LA and the eastern seaboard. While maybe slightly overblown in my opinion, the record tropical forecasts have a lot of backing but are balanced against what appears go be a raging warm west Pacific. This may mean nothing, but in my mind it causes troughing or instability as far as the US as long as the temp profiles over the Bering Sea hold and we continue through right interactions with PDO/AO. Launching typhoons in that environment almost ensures that we won't see unbroken heat over the whole of N. America. Those are my ramblings at first thought. This one has really started off unique. April set the all-time state tornadoes record@55 and May has set some good marks for rainfall, so we are in a bit of an uncharted territory for climo Niña in those areas.

It’s a drizzly and breezy evening out there. Temps in the low 50s. Can hear the wind and rain blowing through the fully leaved trees. Kinda cozy sleeping weather.

Starting to eye mid-June as our next shot at some rainfall and troughing after tomorrow. Although the ridgy period is looking pretty tolerable at the moment.

I don’t think he fell from much height just an awkward landing that blew his knee out. I have fallen off a ladder at work a few times, but was never injured more than some bumps and bruises. It’s been awhile since I’ve fallen now, probably just getting more cautious in my older years.

Just got back. Forum looks entertaining tonight. Let's not make it any more entertaining, please? Someone mentioned earlier about their memorable drive in the snow in February 2019, I think it was @iFred? That reminded me of a story from a couple years back, when I was refreshing my driving skills for the driven portion of my driving test. One of my friends and I took a road trip down to Portland, then east through the Gorge, in the middle of a cold NW onshore flow event. We left late in the morning and drove south all day, without any issue whatsoever, at least until we made it to the Gorge, where torrential rain made it impossible *not* to hydroplane faster than 40mph. But that wasn't so bad, it rains here all the time after all... Just slowing down fixed the issue. The real fun began when we were hooking it back north into Ellensburg. The drive on highway 97 from the Gorge to Ellensburg itself was mostly dry, with a few flurries strewn about as the evening sun expired and colder air filtered in overhead. But when we passed Ellensburg on westbound I90, conditions deteriorated fast. Be it the fading sunlight or the arrival of a substantial convective band, or both, what was once a bare freeway now transformed into miles of unplowed dust. We were turned around by freeway closure signs in Cle Elum, and after a few moments of deliberation, the two of us made the difficult decision to turn around and retrace our steps back to Seattle then and there, instead of seeking refuge in Cle Elum itself, since I had work the following day at 7am. Of course the implications of that being an eight hour drive back over the same long stretch of roads, this time with a whole gauntlet of driving hours already under my belt leaving me already exhausted, as well as absolutely no sunshine to offer a distracting landscape to keep me entertained... And let's just say the friend I brought along wasn't much of a talker, so I had not much company in that aspect, either. Driving back east to Ellensburg through the freshly fallen snow.... Now that's a memory I cherish. We were, quite literally, the only ones out on westbound I90 that night. Not only that, but we were also the only ones who *had* been out there, meaning that as we drove through the freshly falling snow, we were also breaking new trail. Sheets of crystalline drove their way to earth in curtains, illuminated for hundreds of feet by two headlights in the vast darkness. Since we could see the sides of the road so clearly, and we had no other cars to worry about, we had a grand old time swerving and breaking, and having a total hoot and holler of a time... Dancing in a car, in the snow, on the interstate, completely alone. Like little kids. It may never happen to me ever again. The best part was that the snow that was falling was powdery, and compacted well into a grippy surface for my car to realize, so we didn't feel like we were out of control while doing all this. The rest of the drive home was similarly eventful, though I don't want to bore everyone with nine more rushed paragraphs. Long story short, we did some 20F stargazing on highway 97 near Status Pass with the milky way right over us. In Chehalis we endured two hours of white knuckle driving in a surprise precip-driven wet snow event. That snow was not the Disneyland powder adventure of eastern WA. This was a 33F ice rink in headlight to headlight traffic. Not for the faint of heart. But great practice. Oh, and I got home in time for work. No literally, on the dot. I didn't get any sleep that night. Worth it.