The Rain
It’s raining again. Perhaps for the fourth, or tenth, or fifteenth day straight; my cabin fever mind is losing track. Luckily, by chance or fate, the early morning rain delivers serenity.
My fiancé and elderly dog snore in near unison in the adjacent room. It’s a slumber party that affords me something my early morning craves most; quiet space alone to sip my coffee and stare out the nearly floor to ceiling windows, and mindlessly voyeur into the ongoings of our yard. In other words, Me time.
From my nestled position on the couch, I spent endless minutes pondering, for example, the straightness of the Carolina Cherry Laurel hedge. Questioning if I should allow them to just stretch upwards like little trees (since I arbored them last Spring), or keep them cut straight, relatively low and proper, with the discipline of a stately garden. In this half awake, half asleep state, good, bad and sometimes wild ideas float by.
Either way, precipitation determines there will be no garden work today. As a consolation prize, the storm provides entertainment. Right on cue, a darkening sky sets in, after a brief moment of sunshine, and the chimes announce the wind. Atmospheric River number eleven is rolling through. Number twelve will soon follow, so I am resigned to simply watching as they generously dump, without restraint, trillions of gallons of water onto our parched California landscape.
This deluge of rain is reprioritizing my yard work. Like the board game, Shoots and Ladders, it’s swooping us back to square one. I am talking about structural basics; like storm drainage. Something we didn’t consider when we bought our house in an extreme drought marathon.
Heavier rain sets in. The gutter above the overhang just beyond the sliding glass door is furiously spilling over, like a waterfall, drenching the concrete and flooding the grass. There’s a clog in the drain.
In other parts of the yard, the saturated ground pools water quickly. I peer at the flooding. From my vantage point I clearly identify the early casualties of these eleven Atmospheric Rivers; a newly planted Laurel, a climbing vine, and a ‘Lucky Pot of Gold’ Lantana shrub. The Irises are not looking good. Perhaps the Camellia will pull through.
The rain lets up and drizzle resumes. As I sip my coffee, I wait for the House Finches, Mourning Doves, and Scrub Jays to gather around the solitary feeder hanging in our yard. If I’m lucky, a frequently visiting Squirrel (we named him Jackson) will make an appearance.
Meanwhile, the coffee finally kicks in and I plan furiously in my mind for new gutters, leaf guards and rain collection barrels, not to mention - drainage solutions. I’ll spend part of my day re-sketching landscape ideas, drawing up shopping lists and resolving to wait for ‘right-timing’.
Just for kicks, I’ll ponder what my twenty-something year old self would think of my projects and domestically focused ambitions today.
When the Spring sunshine arrives, there will be much work to do.