rain

A Sunday in the Sun, Wind and Rain

Weeks go by and it seems you go nowhere interesting. A trip to the market, and then a walk around the neighborhood. Oh, other things happen, like a phone call or a visit with a friend, but still, life seems uneventful. Not that I want a lot of “events” – they don’t usually bring good news – but I do like a change of scenery. So, when it happens, and the wind is up, the sun is out, the rain is falling on you, rainbows come and go, and you are pounding away on wet sand, head in the wind, life is pretty darn good. Accompanied by the esposo and friends of yore, it makes for a wonderful day. End it with someone’s excellent cooking, how can you complain?

A few weeks ago, our friends Doug and Sheelah, up in Carpinteria, invited us to visit. I’ve been friends with them since before forever, and the town they live in is a small beach community north of us by about 50 miles. I lived there when I was in college, on an avocado ranch where the laborers sang Spanish songs at 5:30 a.m. – a nice way to wake up, along with the clucking of chickens and the crowing of roosters. The beauty of Carpinteria is that it is blessed with a wonderful state park that runs along much of the city itself, moving from wide flat beaches to bluffs which overlook a seal rookery, which is home to mothers, fathers, and newborn babies in the first part of each year.

Sunday afternoon was a windy, blustery day, with remnants of storm clouds gusting in from the north, white caps out to sea, and an occasional wild sprinkling of rain. The sky, though blue, bore thick clouds, and the wind was fierce enough to blow fine sand in rivulets in front of you when your back was to the wind, and fill your eyes and mouth with grit when you were facing it. The cold, too, was biting (for us thin-blooded Californians), and an insulated, windproof jacket, along with hats and hoods made you a lot more comfortable than not. It was so cold, Sheelah went back home and changed from a down jacket to a windbreaker, hat, and long scarf. We waited in the wind for her.

As always, a beach is a treasure chest. Shells, rocks, driftwood, flotsam and jetsam. Sheelah found a beauty of a stone, a jasper veined with white, and a clam shell.

The bluffs host a variety of things. Ranches and small industry, railroad tracks, piers to launch boats for the oil rigs offshore, trails, and seals. Here we began our ascent onto the bluffs.

From here, we continued along the pathways, weaving near the edge of the bluffs and inland, the Pacific on one side, the flat land on the other. Trees vary from native Monterrey cypress (I think that is the correct name) to eucalyptus. The trees at the edge are twisted and tormented by the winds.

A bit away from the shore, sunflowers are already in bloom beneath the old eucalyptus and other coastal trees. The brilliant colors are so welcome after months of drought and brown, dried, dead plants.

The seal rookery, or sanctuary, was not very populated when we looked down at it. The tide was out, so perhaps were the seals; as well, the storms of this season may have discouraged a lot of sex in the sand and babies on the beach.

The Carpinteria Seal Sanctuary is observable from the bluffs. Pupping season begins in December. Above the sanctuary are benches and paths so the seals may be seen, but left undisturbed (one hopes) by humans. This video shows the seal sanctuary as I have seen it in earlier years.

As our earth changes and populations increase and resources lost, such sites are increasingly more important for wildlife. Below is a view from the cliffs. We saw about 4 or 5 seals, well disguised as rocks. The sanctuary is an important area for wildlife. I’ve been here in other years, and there are mothers and babies everywhere, fat and floppy on the sand.

All along the way, to and fro our 3.5 mile walk, there was much to see, whether on the phone lines or in the camping area of the state park. People were out and about, running, bicycling, and just enjoying a brisk, beautiful day.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon! Doug and Sheelah are wonderful people and great friends to spend time with. We feel pretty lucky to live in such a beautiful area and have the blessing of wonderful friends and family nearby.

After yesterday’s post, and Fraggy’s wish for rain for us, something happened.

The sky is falling. Water is coming down.

Thunder.

Lightning.

RAIN!

Here in my dry neck of the woods, rain in July is a miracle. Thunder and lightning seldom happen. The smell of wet concrete, the pattering of rain on the leaves, the dripping in the eaves, the splotchy sunshine. All this is coming through the studio window this morning.

More than 30 minutes after it started, it is still raining.

Amazing.

Dang! Water!

Over the last 24 hours, we got 4 inches / 10 cm. of rain. Here, the soil is clay, and drainage is very poor. As well, the infrastructure for handling massive amounts of water is not the best because we don’t get rain.

Rain? What’s that?

We haven’t seen much in the past 6 years! In our own back yard, we were flooded, literally, with inches of water creeping ever closer to the back patio doors. Finally, Josh took a submersible pump and hooked it up; we pumped out about 1800 gallons based on a 2-hour run with 900 gallons / hour (about 3600 l. / hour). He ran a hose from the back yard to the corner of the sidewalk, and the water poured into the street. And this was in the dark of the night . . .

So, what do we get out of massive rain besides mudslides, flood damage, fallen trees, tipped-over fire trucks, and general chaos? Greenery! New flowers! Mossy rocks! Mud!

And to celebrate – and explore – I returned to the park I went to last weekend, different cameras in hand. Just in a week’s time, new growth is more than evident – buds are now tiny, bright leaves; the water in the creek is a bit higher. There were little changes, too, such as the mossy rocks are greener than before, more palm trees are dead(ish) – for which I say, “Hooray!” – and little mushrooms coming up from under the fallen leaves.

And more rain is on the way!

Mucking in the Muck

Here in the U.S., “mucking” means “to play about in something” and “muck” mostly means “mud.” I think it may mean other things in other parts of the world, such as all the debris in a barn. So, here I am referring to mud, glorious mud!

We have been in the midst of a 6-year drought in California; this year, with heavy precipitation, the snowpack in the northern mountains is more than it has been in 22 years, but with warmer weather, the snow may melt. Then what? We do not have good water storage in much of the state, as in cities like Los Angeles, the water is drained to the sea. Where I live, we don’t get snow (but can admire it on the distant mountains). We get rain (when we get it). It has been a regular rain for the season for the past two months, and this week promises another two or three storms.

Thus, our skies are dark and grey, and the roads are a mess. So are the trails everywhere. You can see footprints and paw prints and bike tracks. It’s not a good time to go along cliffs as the potential of a landslide is pretty serious. The ground becomes saturated and slips. Houses along the ocean cliffs have been known to tumble. Sadly, people are also killed because of the slippage, or seriously injured. Just a few weeks ago, a colleague slipped and fell, and though I do not know the details, I wonder if this is what happened. I’ve lost a couple of other friends the same way, on local trails. Another friend fell and was seriously injured, but has made a good recovery considering all the metal in his back.

But the lure of the outdoors is there – the smell in the air of new growth, the light, the rush of water in usually dry creeks, the songs of birds and croaking of ravens and the screeches of the hawks. It is all there to be savored and enjoyed, quietly, listening.

I took my old beat up Nikon FM2N with me, and a roll of Provia 100, and a 28mm lens from 1970 or so. It does close ups, too. I am looking forward to seeing what comes from the roll, as it was dreary outside, and the light in the late afternoon was not good. I also brought my phone with me, partly for a potential emergency – hiking alone – but also to capture an image or two that might be worthwhile. So, above, is a picture taken last night before I turned to go home. The rains bring new growth, the first of which is this lovely white-flowered wild cucumber.

14 / 365 Pond at the Corner of the Path

The rains have begun to turn our dreary California landscape into a bright green. This little puddle is now a pond.

While a lot of California is considered to be “out of the drought”, where I live, we are still considered to be in drought conditions. We have more storms on the way, which will help with our drought, but the aquifers are still below normal levels. Unless California considers continuing stringent water control and water storage problems, these rains will mean nothing if we have little rain in the years to come.