Remember the popular song by Albert Hammond: “It Never Rains in Southern California”? Well, he’s wrong. Having lived in San Diego for over 16 years, I can say without an ounce of reservation that we generally see 300+ days of beautiful blue skies, radiant sunshine, low humidity and lovely ocean breezes. However, the other 65 days can yield just about anything—even snow.
When it rains in Southern California, it normally comes in waves—rapid downpour for a few minutes, turning to sprinkles, then a little sunshine, then heavy rains for a short while; rarely is it sustained for long periods. Once in a while though, it rains with a vengeance, and yesterday was such a day. It poured relentlessly. When I left my office to drive home, nearly every street was flooded curb-to-curb. Anyone driving more than 10 MPH must have been on drugs. It was that insane. And the wind was bending those palm trees side-to-side as if they were practicing Yoga.
In trying to live up to my new outlook on life—reducing stress and looking for that silver lining, it occurred to me yesterday as I listened to my windshield wipers slapping furiously across my windshield that this rain would soak wooded areas, brush, trees and most of the landscape that was vulnerable to wildfires. Rain in itself cannot stop some idiot from tossing a cigarette out the window, or prevent someone from leaving a campfire burning. However, if a fire does break out, the wet landscape may slow it down and make it less aggressive.
So instead of cursing the rain and struggling with my turned-inside-out umbrella, I think I’m going to take off my shoes and socks, belt out my rendition of Clapton’s “Let it Rain”, and dance in a big puddle. Well, on second thought, acting like a lunatic just might get me a padded room. Maybe I’ll just sing in the shower instead.