I don’t mean it. I live in California. We need the rain.
Hillsides are green, the roses will be as big as cabbages this year, and swimming pools won’t have to be topped off until summer. But l prefer it in small doses, not day after day in an El Nino pattern.
Eighteen months ago, when our boat was in the Pacific Northwest, I wondered if it would ever rain again. Even the Canadian Gulf Islands were dry. A custom’s official, chatting with us on our boat in Roche Harbor, predicted a mass exodus from California to wetter locales. He was so interested in the drought, he forgot to chastise me for not signing my passport, or giving him the wrong street address. I was flustered. At least I remembered my name.
Rain means we don’t have to remove our water-guzzling lawns or let our plants die. If the reservoirs fill this winter and spring, we’ll be able to water whenever we want…not just between certain hours or on certain days. Of course years of dry weather have given us a lot of new habits. I never let the water run while brushing my teeth. My showers are three minutes, thank you very much. The dishwasher runs only when it’s full and the same goes for laundry.
Of course by now, a lot of people in California have already ripped out their lawns, their washers are low water models, and nobody dares hose off their driveway…not in daylight when someone might see them. People drive around in cars with bumper stickers that say, “Dirty for the Drought,” or “Don’t Live with a Drip.” Or my favorite, “Save Water, Drink Wine.”
All this rain will take some time to get used to, and while I’d love to see the sun, I like the rest of that old nursery rhyme…”come again some other day.”
And if it continues to rain forty days and forty nights, that’s not a problem. I have Sea Bear, our snug little tug, to ride out the storms.