April 3rd, 2006


Wet Wet Wet

As the gray light reveals the world, the clouds settle lower and lower, until the swaying tops of the trees are fogged. The wind flutters the camellia leaves as well, and sometimes sends sheets of rain spattering against my window pane. There has been very little quiet all night, as the rainfall has been constant and sometimes fierce, sending cascades spilling from the overburdened roof gutters to splash in the small ponds lapping against the foundations. The entire night has been a delight, and the rain shows no sign of letting up, so it will probably sing through my dreams.


A fortuitous arrangement of clouds brought us a massive and lurid sunset, its vivid reds and oranges engulfing half the western horizon. Earlier, I was surprised to hear the avian calliope in a tree just down the block. The birds used to gather in a tree in the field a few hundred feet southwest of here, until houses were built there a couple of years ago. Since then, I haven't heard the phenomenon at all. When I first heard it, I thought they were larks of some sort, but now I'm inclined to think they may be thrushes. Dozens of them gather into a single tree and all chirp at once. Their song being fairly complex, the entire group can set up quite a racket. I suspect this event to have something to do with mating. It may be the avian equivalent of those three-minute dating events, when a bunch of people gather and spend three minutes with each of a number of prospective partners. Odd birds.

My dad is getting rid of his car- he gave up driving it a couple of years ago, except for the occasional trip up and down the block just to keep the thing working. This means two things: First, we have no handy way of getting out of town quickly when the whole place burns in the inevitable forest fire that will one day consume it; and second, there will now be enough room in the garage for me to spread out those boxes of stuff I've got stacked in there. I'll be able to go through them and see what I've got (and maybe what to get rid of.) That's going to be a project.

The rain might be over for now. Tomorrow might even resemble actual spring.