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Rain
Here in California our thoughts turn to the probability of rain beginning in November even as we experience the glories of Fall. Leaves are falling, the grapevines are red and the hills are brown. In average years we expect 30 to 40 inches of rain in the Bay area and it normally falls between November and April. As nearly everyone knows by now, we on the west coast have been experiencing a drought for a number of years. The usual low pressure area which normally parks itself off the coast and allows storms and rain to flow down from the north has been replaced by a persistent high that shunts them away, often to the midwest.
Last year San Jose marked its second-driest year with 6.35 inches of rain (43 percent of average). San Rafael also saw its second-driest year with 16 inches (45 percent of average).
Oakland experienced its driest year, with 9.19 inches (38 percent of average). Santa Cruz also made history with 13.55 inches (43 percent of average).
Since we moved here 34 years ago I have kept a daily rain total record. The guy next door does this too so we can check each other's totals. I mentioned this to MB the other day (ha!) and he knew of friends who had been doing it since high school. It becomes an obsession to be accurate. In looking back it appears that our best month was January 2008 when we got 15.9 inches. This year in January we got .4 inches. Thus our worries.
The expression "pure as the rain" is not quite accurate.
Enter, dirt. Air is full of it. Although it looks clear, there are billions of tiny particles floating around in the air between your eyes and this newspaper computer: salt crystals, dust, soot, particles from smokestacks, car exhaust, forest fires, distant dust storms and more. You can't see these specs of grit, for they are one one-hundredth the size of those invisibly small balls of water.
Every single snowflake or raindrop has a dirt speck inside. Those same water droplets who shunned each other in pure water vapor will shamelessly glom onto any particle of dirt that floats by. Once the glomming, or condensation, begins, other droplets hurry to join. Now the invisible droplets grow to visible size. In the summer and down near the warm Earth, they form as liquid rain. In the winter or high in the sky, they freeze as ice crystals.
Rain in the country has quite a different aspect from that in a city environment. When we sold flowers at the market in San Francisco I marveled at the blasé attitude of our city customers. Just grab an umbrella and carry on. Wet sidewalks no problem.
In the country one must pick up all the tools and equipment you left around, clean out the rain gutters, locate your rain outfit and boots (Oh, yeah, there's still a hole in the boots from last year). And one must take care that none of your special plants are going to be damaged by rain.
It's a temptation to be California-centric about the needed rain. I have lived in other places. Where I grew up in Wisconsin it rained every few days especially when a picnic was planned. In New Jersey where I bought my first motorcycle it rained every weekend all weekend. And N J being so flat the water had nowhere to go thus providing great fun in a hydroplaning vehicle. I prefer our area where one can plan for at least seven months of clear weather; sadly recently it has become all too clear all year.
There are more than 5000 songs with "rain" in the title and here is a list of 1000 songs about rain. Your favorites will be there somewhere. One researcher mused that there were so many because "rain" rhymes with "pain". Maybe.
1000 rain songs
The song that occurs to me immediately when I'm feeling nostalgic about our missing rain is this gem by Van Morrison which kindles good memories of pure pleasure and surprise friendships.
Wherever you are you have some experience with rain or a lack of rain, from the coast of Hawaii to Death Valley. Although I've never been to the former, we did camp in Death Valley for two days. It rained.
What's it like where you live? Too much rain or not enough? Or even……just right?
The Kitchen Table is open, wet or dry. But always clean.
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Kitchen Table Kibitzing is a community series for those who wish to share part of the evening around a virtual kitchen table with kossacks who are caring and supportive of one another. So bring your stories, jokes, photos, funny pics, music, and interesting videos, as well as links—including quotations—to diaries, news stories, and books that you think this community would appreciate. Readers may notice that most who post diaries and comments in this series already know one another to some degree, but newcomers should not feel excluded. We welcome guests at our kitchen table, and hope to make some new friends as well.
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