Rain - You want us to do what?

Yesterday was a day of lashing rain, exuberant wind whipped trees and frothy sorbet yellow, pollen rimmed puddles.
This being brash and media hungry California, it was impossible for us to slide into an autumn season of gentle precipitation. Hell No! We went from Heatwave and Wildfires to Typhoon, Flooding and Mudslides as quick as a blink. We had 6-8 inches (15-20 cms) of wet stuff from the sky in a twenty four hour period, with high winds to match. I loved every minute of it!
Itsy bitsy dribbly rain is annoying. You don't take it seriously; it's too much trouble to put a coat on; you get surreptitiously dampened; glasses useless, hair flattened, shoulders shivering in cold clothes for the remainder of the day. Bah Humbug.
Give me a rip roaring horizontal torrent and I'll show you my happy face. I have pink wellies with daisies on. I have Gore-TeX rain wear and a leather baseball cap from The Territory Ahead, ever so slightly accented with plaid. If I'm going to get wet anyway, I might as well enjoy being outside when I pretty much get the place to myself. Joggers, cyclists and even squirrels were noticeably absent from the landscape. Just me and some very wet dogs.
Number One Dog, Diva, was a puppy during our first go round with El Nino. I was in shock: When we moved to California from Europe we arrived at the beginning of a seven year drought. I thought it would always be like that. So, you weren't supposed to wash your car and lawns were considered antisocial; You could plan a barbecue or trip to the beach with the certitude of warm, dry surroundings. I didn't even own a raincoat.
I think the El Nino climate kicked in early in the spring one year, or maybe it came to my attention then, because we procured our First Canine, who was an adorable, teddy bear sized puppy with needle sharp teeth and a need for exercise. Diva grew up splishing along trying to catch the bubbles she and I kicked up in the gutters on our walks. As wet from below as from above, "What the Hell? I'm English-What do you Expect?" When it's time to go out, we go out. Weather? What's that?
Yesterday morning I leashed up The Foster Dogs for their usual 45 minute constitutional and opened the door, ready to set out. You should have seen their faces. "You want us to do what? In the Rain?" was expressed as clearly as if they had spoken. We went out anyway, of course, and after a block and a half of near paralysis
they must have reached down into their inner Collie-core of hardy Scottish herding dogs and they got with the program. Big fluffy Marks and Spencer's bath towels were used for doggie massages upon our return and I made good use of the hot shower for myself. It's not exactly roughing it; we were never in danger of hypothermia; we didn't have to hack down branches to build a temporary shelter. Between the morning and afternoon outings with separate sets of dogs, I filled a washing machine with clothes and towels. I had a smile on my face all day and from the look on the faces of the few car drivers who slowed to make clever comments to us, like "You're going to get wet, you know?", we amused some other people too.

They sent us the wrong weather

There must have been a mix up as we received the wrong weather yesterday. It doesn't rain here in June! About 9 o'clock last night, without warning, there was the sound of rain on the roof. 

Sufficiently novel for me to open the front door and look outside, to see if my ears were deceiving me. No, it was real rain, the straight up and down kind that is not too wild, just determinedly headed for the ground. There were a couple of flashes of lightening with well-spaced thunder. I was grateful that my, now-deaf dog, no longer fears what she can't hear. 

The Gibbous moon was crystal bright through some torn-cobweb clouds as the storm cell moved on, after twenty minutes or so.

There must be a whole new generation of furry and feathered creatures who were looking to their mothers for an explanation about wet stuff last night. We normally would have remained dry until October.

The moisture will produce green shoots in a day or two and the young fawns will have an unusual treat amongst the dry golden hills. 

This morning was wonderful. The world is newly washed and the loamy dampness in the air was reminiscent of England. 

Forecast-Rain

This morning was a cacophony of birds. Chirping, cheeping, warbling, whistling; a few who could hold a tune performing and competing, as if they too had heard the weather forecast and knew that time was short.

At lunch-time we watched the bees in the ornamental pear by the dining room window. In and out of the bright-white blossoms. Busy, busy; Now or never. 

By 3pm the trees are restless. The sky is a uniform pale grey; not too menacing yet, but this will not be an evening where dark hesitates politely at the threshold.

I take the dog for a walk an hour early this afternoon, unsure if we would make it later without bringing home gallons of water on her full, furry, collie coat. Diva likes the promise-wind before the rain. Her pointy nose gathers messages that her old ears cannot hear. She smiles into the wind. Diva was a puppy in the El Niño years; she loves puddles and saturated playing fields.

We have had a few days' break since the last rain. Gardeners have tidied up the ripped-paper strips of eucalyptus bark. The fat, pink camellias lusciously carpeting the ground are decaying, no longer perfect as they were last week. My invincibly bright daffodils, relentlessly beaten into translucent defeat have been replaced by a new army, stoically ready to face their fate.

As we head for home I see a newly flowering white Camellia by a neighbor's wall. Tight geometric blooms perfect and pristine as new snow. The round buds a suspended hail storm hovering over the dark, shiny leaves.

Sound-effects from a tall palm tree. Dry clack-clacking of old, untrimmed palm leaves; each desiccated, cricket-colored layer rubbing on those of the year below.

Today is Saturday. We will surely wake tomorrow to the sound of rain. Comfortably cocooned in our beds, sleeping easily in the fake darkness.

Later Diva will have her fun. She doesn't know it yet but tomorrow is bath-day for her anyway.