I thought to myself, today, Thursday, as I was driving to the library in the rain: “Wow. I really never appreciated good weather until I got bad weather.” Six days of rain will get you thinking such profound thoughts. Yes, I am a spoiled Southern California native and once-Colorado-dweller–a state that has winter and also more annual days of sunshine than Hawaii (300 of ’em). But, I maintain, constant sunshine is like health. You don’t think about it while it’s good.
Also, I thought: I never did put on those new windshield wipers. Said winshield wipers have been sitting in the backseat of my car since sweltering August, when the idea of rain was laughable. Since August, when the hills behind Los Angeles–behind my house–burned. We are now living the aftermath of that burn. 250 homes have been evacuated as the inevitability of mudslides looms. The land threatens to slip out from under us.
The rain, then, feels just the same as that week of fires, when the heat was oppressive, the smokey air pervasive, and we waited, tense, for news: any homes lost? Worse, any lives? Not yet, but it looms, over our shoulders (or rather, under our feet, slippery and slimy), and we go to bed and wake up to find that it’s still raining.
Maybe that’s why weather is the evergreen topic of conversation: because it so pervades our lives.