Rain

About a half-hour before my brother and family arrived to visit, the sprinkles started. After they left it really started to come down. We hunkered down to watch an old Rita Hayworth movie set in the South Pacific, loosely adapted from a story that I remember reading by W. Somerset Maugham.
Thanks to this year’s weird weather pattern, “monsoon” influences have blown-up in retrograde from New Mexico and Arizona, and we’ve been having a tumultuous Sierra Summer. There’s been with hail the size of quarters in Tahoe, and severe lightning filled rain-cells along the spine of the mountains from Quincy on down southerly to Arnold and Sonora. A few days ago we heard what sounded like artillery practice as dry-lightning boomed in the mountains above Kirkwood Ski Resort. Severe weather warnings have flashed-up on the TV screen in the midst of shows, warning of flash-flooding from the sudden onslaught of actual “weather.” In any event, the small bit of rain we did receive with grateful thanks to a beneficent Deity easily filled the rain barrels, yay!

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About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

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