First Rain
There was a break in the rain today. That's tough to write, considering that the rain was a break in seven months of no-rain. It had precipitated only once since April, and that was months ago and overnight. It had been so hot and so dry for so long, that what might have gone up in a fire had turned to dust. Well not really, of course; a fire would have swept through the northern Sacramento Valley without pausing for a breath. But, thank goodness, that's behind us, until next summer.
It's been raining now for a coupla days. A storm center had formed over the Pacific, and then came ashore. The long, drenching rain pours as if purposely unburdening the clouds above. With the rain has come winds, gusts topping 50 miles-'n-hour, which cleared out a lotta leaves and dead wood, knocking out power for some 200,000 electric customers. We escaped that nuisance somehow, though there was considerable flickering of the lights.
The mercury didn't fall too far, the heat locked under the cloud layer, but it was raw so but I built our first fire of the season. The kittens, who arrived in June, clearly enjoyed the new experience, stretching out languidly, purring their stentorian accord. I left the door open out onto the deck last night, just to hear the sound of the rain, though when the wind came up, discretion -- as in keeping the carpet dry -- induced a narrowing of the breach.
On day one of the deluge, I felt like my whole body was going into a state of relaxation, the tension in my muscles melting into the earth, as though I had arrived on a tropical island at the start of a vacation. I walked around the house, looking out at different vistas, sometimes just standing in a doorway, absorbing the random constancy of the mellifluous pummeling, soaking up the smells of the flowers and trees, streaming with joy at their long-delayed resuscitation. A half-barrel of yellow chrysanthemums, their blossoms rapturously saturated, tumbled over the side of their home in an act of mindless autumn seppuku.
Water streamed over the side of the gutters, so when the downpour poured down less, I donned my foul-weather gear and pulled the ten-foot ladder from behind the storage shed. Carefully positioning it in the soddening ground next to the drain spout, I climbed skyward with a stick. A little poke and the leaves succumbed to the pressure of the pounds of water behind them. A virtual tsunami flushed south onto a patch of cement below. At risk of sounding too beyond the bend, that release is one of my favorite rituals of the year.
As it turned out, the break in the weather was timed perfectly for my errands. Gotta shop some time, plus my pal Robert wanted me to have lunch with his Christian Business Men's Committee; the speaker was the top local aide of our congressman, and a finer fellow in his own right. Coming home, the clouds parted ecclesiastically to reveal some blue sky and the recently-elusive Sol, creating together one of the true miracles of nature, a rainbow. A beautiful arc spanning sixty degrees, it rode the heavens brilliantly for more than ten minutes, and as an added bonus, a hint of a second arc appeared for a few moments.
More rain is forecast, but of course, this is the rainy season. Even with what was dumped on us the last coupla days, we're still inches below normal. I would be delighted to watch us catch up, drop by drop, as the grey skies brighten the colors of the flora below. We need the cleansing.
And that's SetonnoteS...I'm Tony Seton.
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