February, when we welcomed the rain.

Feb 4 2023

 We take the opportunity before too much more rain develops to fit in a quick walk out at China Camp – it is, after all, practically in our back yard.  With enough rain gear, it’s not a bad walk under trees and along streams. It’s not pouring rain, just a pretty steady drizzle – I mean, in Portland, it wouldn’t even rate a mention. We’re the only car in this particular lot – most folks park out on North San Pedro Road. But we’re not confident about the weather and want to have a quick  getaway if we get drenched.

 

A quick flutter off to the right , a piercing whistled cry,  white rump just above the tail – a northern flicker greets us as we tackle the three switchbacks that get us up the low hill, tree boles swathed in brilliant green mosses – we are moving through a green universe, dotted with mushrooms, and the tiny white bells of manzanitas and wildflowers, the magenta red of Indian warrior plants, that as far as I can recall are dormant all summer, springing forth now with the rains, defiant and beautiful. There's a tinkling soothing sound of rock-bedded little water falls, little creeks running out to San Pablo Bay.

It is an astonishment of greenness, of moist air. Our lungs gobble it up and we march forward with no purpose but to be walking. A few joggers and several squads of mountain bikes pass us, everyone moving faster than us, hoping to avoid the bigger rain drops. The backs of all the bikers are festooned with strip of mud straight up their back side, from saddle-seat to mid-back.  We relish this rebound of green and mud after the months and years of drought and dust. Bring it on, we think!

 This was in February. March soon became another matter.