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senoritafishI got a suprise leaving the office yesterday evening, and walked out in to a light rain. Not hard enough to get wet walking through the parking lot, but enough to keep the wipers on, and hear a patter on the windshield. I opened the cover to the sunroof so I could see it hitting the roof, and decide Crowded House's "Distant Sun" goes well with rain. Can't say why though.
As I drive south down PCH, I notice birds diving just past the surf. I try to pull over to turn into the parking lot on top of the bluffs, but someone won't let me over, and I'm forced to go all the way to the signal and make a U-Turn. Speed back to the lot, park, hop out and up to steps to look over the edge of the bluff. I'm hoping to see dolphins - often birds are a sign they are cruising by. I hanker to see some - it's been so long since I have. No, no dolphins.
The recent rain has pitted the sand on the edge of the bluff. Concurrent smells of salt air and ozone from the rain. A chill breeze penetrates my long sleeved shirt and ruffles the stray hair around my ears, that always comes loose at the end of the day. A rain drop hits my temple; I think it's starting up again. The sunset is peaking under the clouds and I can see the outline of Santa Catalina Island. Huge cargo ships line the horizon, as they have since the labor lockout, waiting to unload fruit from South America and cheap Christmas decorations from China. There are at least 40 of them. While that's less than the 100 that were stacked up during the lockout, I don't know if they're ever going to get caught up. I wonder what all those anchors are doing to the bottom.
I can see the gleam of headlights on a lifeguard's jeep, south of me on the beach. A lone woman is throwing sticks for her dog into the surf - strictly illegal; although this is a dog beach, they are supposed to stay on leashes. Well, when the lifeguard's not looking......
Three surfers bob in the small waves -I can see the swell approaching the beach beyond them, and it doesn't look like anything decent-sized is on its way. The ocean is fairly flat, there are no white caps to obscure the incoming swells. Beyond the surfers, the birds I made the U-turn for are fishing. The brown pelicans and cormorants are diving headfirst for a meal - must be smelts or grunion so close to the beach.
The undersurface of the clouds have a texture to them - no featureless grey today. The east is still pretty dark. I hope we can go for a walk in it later. We don't get enough of it and I've never outgrown the joy I feel when it rains. Probably why I loved going to Humboldt State and the short time I got to spend in Seattle when my brother still lived there. But smells, breeze, the watery sunset and even the absent dolphins remind me of one of the reasons I am still here, even though I am starting to hate this city in the pocket of developers. I could never live inland. I love sitting on the porch late at night and being able to hear the surf as background noise to everything. A hiss when the weather is calm, a distant regular boom when there's a rare storm, or when waves generated by a hurricanes's fetch reach our south-facing shores.
"When You Come" is also excellent music for a rainstorm - but this is more of gentle shower. Much appreciated, but I long for some real weather.
As I drive south down PCH, I notice birds diving just past the surf. I try to pull over to turn into the parking lot on top of the bluffs, but someone won't let me over, and I'm forced to go all the way to the signal and make a U-Turn. Speed back to the lot, park, hop out and up to steps to look over the edge of the bluff. I'm hoping to see dolphins - often birds are a sign they are cruising by. I hanker to see some - it's been so long since I have. No, no dolphins.
The recent rain has pitted the sand on the edge of the bluff. Concurrent smells of salt air and ozone from the rain. A chill breeze penetrates my long sleeved shirt and ruffles the stray hair around my ears, that always comes loose at the end of the day. A rain drop hits my temple; I think it's starting up again. The sunset is peaking under the clouds and I can see the outline of Santa Catalina Island. Huge cargo ships line the horizon, as they have since the labor lockout, waiting to unload fruit from South America and cheap Christmas decorations from China. There are at least 40 of them. While that's less than the 100 that were stacked up during the lockout, I don't know if they're ever going to get caught up. I wonder what all those anchors are doing to the bottom.
I can see the gleam of headlights on a lifeguard's jeep, south of me on the beach. A lone woman is throwing sticks for her dog into the surf - strictly illegal; although this is a dog beach, they are supposed to stay on leashes. Well, when the lifeguard's not looking......
Three surfers bob in the small waves -I can see the swell approaching the beach beyond them, and it doesn't look like anything decent-sized is on its way. The ocean is fairly flat, there are no white caps to obscure the incoming swells. Beyond the surfers, the birds I made the U-turn for are fishing. The brown pelicans and cormorants are diving headfirst for a meal - must be smelts or grunion so close to the beach.
The undersurface of the clouds have a texture to them - no featureless grey today. The east is still pretty dark. I hope we can go for a walk in it later. We don't get enough of it and I've never outgrown the joy I feel when it rains. Probably why I loved going to Humboldt State and the short time I got to spend in Seattle when my brother still lived there. But smells, breeze, the watery sunset and even the absent dolphins remind me of one of the reasons I am still here, even though I am starting to hate this city in the pocket of developers. I could never live inland. I love sitting on the porch late at night and being able to hear the surf as background noise to everything. A hiss when the weather is calm, a distant regular boom when there's a rare storm, or when waves generated by a hurricanes's fetch reach our south-facing shores.
"When You Come" is also excellent music for a rainstorm - but this is more of gentle shower. Much appreciated, but I long for some real weather.
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Date: 2002-10-27 09:17 am (UTC)i live in a town on a Great Lake, but it just doesn't compare to the ocean.
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Date: 2002-10-27 09:51 am (UTC)The sound of surf is wonderful.
Put me in a hammock with my sweetiepie, while within earshot of the surf, and I'll be at ground zero of the bliss radius.
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Date: 2002-10-27 10:00 am (UTC)The first time I saw Lake Superior (or maybe it was Lake Michigan, I can't remember)I was amazed to see freshwater surf. It didn't quite feel the same, though. I couldn't bodysurf very well in it (well, I can't bodysurf very well anyway).
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Date: 2002-10-27 10:07 am (UTC)Is that a new icon? That sunset looks like it should in be a Maxfield Parrish painting! (Amazing what you can fit in 100 x100 pixels).
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Date: 2002-10-27 10:14 am (UTC)That comes from a photo I took while diving in Palau. The icon in this post is from the same trip but in Yap. Maybe I should post the fullsize ones in one of my Photoshlock entries.