One of the signs that I'm adjusting to California is that, when I see the gravel along the road being misted with fresh greens, I think, "It must be winter, there are weeds!"
In the last two weeks it's been raining every few days. I love it. Our office is on the third floor overlooking the San Mateo County airport and a National Wetlands area. If I turn away from the computer, I can watch egrets stalking or pelicans flying past. I love seeing their silhouettes emerging from the misty rain that has enveloped us. Yesterday we all crowded the window as a rainbow appeared over the runway--end to end touched down just outside our window.
I've developed a superstition. If I see one of the little planes coming in for a landing, I have to watch it finish. My fear is that I might turn my back and not see it crash. Our staff meetings are often punctuated by horrified gasps as a plane wobbles down toward the runway.
Now that it's an exception, only appearing for two months a year, I love the rain. The frantic pace of life seems to slow. Commutes clog up even worse, people are late for work, it's easy to curl up with a good book and there's cloud action instead of a blue bowl overhead.