As mild (or even boring) as the weather generally is here in Southern California, when it decides to take a turn for the worse, it can be extreme, like much else in this place of earthquake and mudslide. We sit precariously on the continent's edge, oblivious as lizards doing pushups in the sunshine much of the time, but when the rain pours down all at once, loosening the rocks on the furrowed hillsides like molars, or when piers shake loose in sustained gusts of wind, rain, and fist-hard hail, or when water spouts join the earth and sky like Melvillian cetaceans out for revenge, then we know truly this place we inhabit.
I was supposed to attend a wildflower event in Casper Wilderness Park today. Even though it is not raining now and the event is still going forward, I do not want to go. For one thing, the sky looks somewhat doubtful, and it is cold. The ground must be soupy from yesterday's storms. Regretfully, I will sit out this dance, though it has been some time since I ventured out onto the trail.
Summer is coming soon.