Shakespeare had it with “..now is the winter of our discontent made…” but I would say fire, not flesh. The very air in California is brittle from lack of water. I am still gathering the bones of my poor white birch, skeletal white and so dead, from the ground of my slowly dying landscape. Yes, they will pay you around a thousand dollars to remove your grass and install “drought tolerant” plants with bark or rocks but don’t be fooled. It costs way more than that and even tolerant plants still need some water.
The clouds come by once and a while, but they leave without a drop. Did you know that virga is rain that does not reach the ground?? The weather maps show some green, but no water actually falls. I’d never heard that word until I reached this desert. Rain that does not reach the ground, is that a cosmic joke on us? Have I mentioned we are trapped in a C. S. Lewis novel? (if you don’t get the reference “always winter, never Christmas”) Always cloudy never raining.
I am not a travel writer, I like my fiction. I write love stories, no not romances, not enough sex (or so I’ve been told). I like fiction because I can control (usually, sometimes things get out of hand) how the story goes. Reality is not as much fun and bad things just feckin’ happen. I am proofing LIGHTED WINDOWS one last time before sending it on to the editor. It is disappointing to see some of my rookie mistakes still happening in these last chapters. To be a writer, you must write. To be a good writer, you must write a lot and daily if at all possible. The more I write the better (I hope) I get. But it does not correlate with the drought problem. The longer we go without water, June 6th was our last real rain, the less we are able to handle it. Being in a drought never gets easier, no matter how hard you try.
Ciao darlings! If you have rain read this bit one more time before you get too depressed. It will stop raining but will it ever start???