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first flush!
I'm going out the door in a few minutes to go sample water from the storm drain under Capitola Wharf. On the way I'm getting my young friend Rebeccah and taking her to the site we call "Creekside" where Soquel Creek runs under Highway 1. I'm just waiting for my team captain to call. I've been on the phone off and on tonight as we discuss whether the rain is enough to "call it." (isn't it fun how every endeavor develops its own lingo?) Around eight o'clock, they had called it in Ukiah (way up north). A few minutes ago, they called it in San Gregorio (fifty miles or so up the coast). We just called it in Santa Cruz, and Capitola is right after (except once in a while the storm is narrow enough to call it in one place and not the other). I can hear the rain now.
We won't be counting fish tomorrow because the first rain is pretty stressful for the fish already, since it brings down all the loose sediment that hasn't been washed out for six months. But Emma and I are going to go kelp viewing. It's kind of like cherry blossom viewing, or fall leaves viewing, except that it's on the beaches after an early winter storm. Low tide is too early in the morning, so we're just going whenever.
Later, I'm going to a Move On calling party. Damn right. We need a landslide: it has to be absolutely ironclad against trickery.
In other news, my copy of The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror arrived. The stories are in there alphabetically by author's name, which means I'm right before Tanith Lee. And I got the email heads-up that I'm getting the contract for the story about latent sexes to appear in the online magazine The Hub.
I'm thinking about flannel.
It's pretty wet out there. I love the smell of rain.
We won't be counting fish tomorrow because the first rain is pretty stressful for the fish already, since it brings down all the loose sediment that hasn't been washed out for six months. But Emma and I are going to go kelp viewing. It's kind of like cherry blossom viewing, or fall leaves viewing, except that it's on the beaches after an early winter storm. Low tide is too early in the morning, so we're just going whenever.
Later, I'm going to a Move On calling party. Damn right. We need a landslide: it has to be absolutely ironclad against trickery.
In other news, my copy of The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror arrived. The stories are in there alphabetically by author's name, which means I'm right before Tanith Lee. And I got the email heads-up that I'm getting the contract for the story about latent sexes to appear in the online magazine The Hub.
I'm thinking about flannel.
It's pretty wet out there. I love the smell of rain.
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It's difficult for Brits to appreciate how nice rain feels after so long without it, but I do remember the drought of 1976 and how we just all danced around outside in the warm rain that finally fell after weeks of water rationing.
Of course we then had weeks of cold wet weather and still had water rationing, so no one could have showers until the reservoirs filled up again.
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I had a relaxing and companionable evening last night and slept in for the first time in months. Here the sun is out but it's actually getting to be fallish temps, so it feels crisp, and the leaves are visibly turning and dropping.
I just ate leftover carrot-hippy-healthy mac & cheese for breakfast. I have vaguely Greek green beans for lunch....
Maybe I will make scones next. Love, Katie
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I'm trying to call you in the next fifteen minutes.
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Does your kelp have bubbles to pop? Ours up north always did.
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