We’re wrapping up another windstorm this winter. It used to be called a Pineapple Express because it found its roots in the Pacific Ocean by the Hawaiian Islands. More recently, we talked about rivers of rain and the pummeling we get as the rivers encroach over land. Thousands are without power, rivers are cresting, and the “rain” only leaves behind an inch or two of precipitation in 18 hours.
Sometimes, it’s not about the amount of water but rather the accumulation in the mountains that pour down the ravines and gorges to the open water below.
Sometimes, it’s not about the amount of water but the power of the wind that drives the storm on shore.
I know many think we get a lot of rain, and there are songs and poems that bemoan the curtain of clouds that hang over the lowlands, but the sun shines somewhere higher. Most of the rain is between late fall and mid-spring. The summers are generally rainless.
As I fed the dogs on the porch this morning, the wind trommel through the trees, and rain fell lightly—unlike the rain in the south. Unhuh. There is a difference. The dogs are damp because they’re dogs, and they pay little attention to the weather.
There is no power loss here. I’ll take the rain any day. The ditches are relatively lightly filled. But maybe the wind can stay out over the ocean next time.
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