It rained on Wednesday, unexpected and brief and hot. I was driving up Wilshire to Westwood after a grumpy day had begun to fade into a tired night, and I looked up and there rainbow hung between two silver buildings. So naturally I rolled down my window to take a cell phone photo, and my arm got wet, and I saw my windshield was dotted with erratic wet spots, and that the pavement was too, and suddenly the golden light of dusk turned grey and it was raining.
The first rain of the season was a big deal in Nicaragua, after months and months of scorched dry and cracked dirt, and this rain, two days before October on crowded cement streets, felt of the same monument. Though this summer didn’t feel like summer, all cool and cloudy, and this fall doesn’t feel like fall–thermometer breaking heat in downtown L.A. (front page news!)–the rain felt like an ushering of some kind of season. It’s still 80 degrees on October 1—another 1st! they hurtle in so quickly—but it rained on Wednesday, refreshing and sort of funny: all of us leaning out our windows to take photos of a rainbow with our cell phones. It was energizing, and I’ve gotta good feeling about October.