When I was six years old, we lived in an old–extremely unsafe–house. We used to have to drain the claw-footed bathroom out the 1 1/2 story window with a piece of surgical tubing.
I was very conscious about water. I remember washing my hands and wondering, “Where does the water go? Will we ever run out? No–grownups won’t let it.”
The next year, California entered the first drought that I can remember.
When I was eighteen, my best friend and I thought we’d go to my night classes during the worst storm California could remember. It was 1986– horses drowned at Cal Expo that night, trees floated across flooded parked roads, and my friend and I were out in the middle of a maelstrom, because she was afraid her horse, roaming free in a field, might be in danger like the unfortunate animals down next to the Sacramento river. Her car stalled in the middle of someone’s driveway, we walked three miles in the rain, dodged lamas swimming over a flooded fence, and broke into her friend’s house so we could find shelter.
Dumb things you do when you’re young and stupid, right?
In 1996, Mate’s mom called us in our second story apartment and asked us if we were okay. When we replied–rather puzzled–that we were fine, she told us to look out the window. Our apartment was fine, but half a block down, every 1st story apartment in the block was under water.
Last year, it was reported that the middle of my state had sunk nearly three inches because the water table had dropped so low, the earth was actually SINKING.
Californians worry about water.
One way or another, every day. Is the snow pack high? Will it get us through summer? Is it melting too fast? Will we flood this winter? Will the storm wash us away?
I took the dogs walking today for half a mile. They still think I was trying to kill them.
So today was all about rain.
I brought you some songs–all about rain.
