The Fishers in La Paz, Bolivia

Yes, it’s Groundhog’s Day.

Now, if I were to – in the tradition of Bill Murray – abduct Punxsutawney Phil and bring him down to La Paz, Bolivia (a city whose rainy summer weather I would compare to Cleveland, Ohio in the spring or the fall), he might get wet, but he would not likely head back to bed for six more weeks.  In fact, he might get hit by a water balloon or assaulted by a subtance very similar to shaving cream.  You see, it’s summer, and it’s Carnaval weekend.

Our school staff has a tradition of celebrating a tamed-down version of Carnaval by waging a good-natured water-war on its students.  Many were soaked, some were muddied, few were injured and none perished.  Generally speaking, a good time was had by all.

That was yesterday.  Anne and I are badly sunburned (you’d think we’d remember that we are, in fact, two miles closer to the sun!).  Today, we played on a big jungle-gym and went swimming.

If you see Phil, let him know that we’re here and we’re waiting.  No winter.  No shadows.  Just lots and lots and lots of rain.