March 22, 2018

Saying goodbye to the rain..

Generally and especially nowadays, around the beginning of Spring and usually about two weeks earlier, the rainy season stops and Southern California launches into its more normal cycle of morning gloom and sunny afternoons. Gradually, Spring turns into Summer and the gloom usually gives way to warm mornings and warmer, clearer afternoons. But, unhappily for beach tourists, the sunny beaches do not show up until late July or the middle of August. But the weather is incredibly uneventful and -- frankly -- boring. In fact, were I vacationing in Southern California with the main intent being to hit warm, sunny beaches and ride decent waves, I would plan my vacation for after Labor Day for what can be only described as an Indian Summer. (This warm/hot snap often lasts well into October when the Santa Ana Winds kick up.)

Now people who live in Minnesota or Michigan or North Dakota will think I am nuts, but I frankly enjoy a little drama in my weather. I like rain from the Summer thunder-and-lightening storms that pop up in the warm afternoons to the Spring rains that show up through the end of May.

Infobabe kevetching over impending storm coming to Kern County during recent "Storm Watch"

But here in SoCal, we kiss that goodbye until the late Fall when we pray earnestly that the current episode of teeth-itching, finger-sparking Santa Ana Winds will be the last we see for the season.

Rain here means that we do NOT have to go to the beach, get red, itchy peeling sun burns, and perform the obligatory surfing and tracking gritty sand into our cars. It means we get a free pass to stay indoors to work on more cerebral projects. It means we can go to some bar overlooking the beach and watch the grey soldiers march out of the North and deposit sheets of water onto the scenery while we are safe and warm inside with a beer or Margarita or Jack on the rocks.

Can't touch me, Nor' Easter; I am sheltered.

So when the rains -- what little there are nowadays -- leave with only a hint of promise that they will return in the Fall despite the mindless supplications of the bubble-headed bleach blonde weather babes and blow-dry rip-and-readers, I realize that I will be six months older when the sky clouds up and tinkles on California and makes all the beach crowd despondent and on the brink of suicide because they are deprived of a beach day.

Somehow, I will get over it but I wish I were younger and more energetic.. I could pick up and move to some small town on the Oregon or Washington coast where I would rust instead of tan.

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