Quenched

We were anticipating a Santa Cruz getaway when the skies opened up and tossed bucketfuls of water down on our very thirsty California. Through gritted teeth, I thanked the rain gods for ruining our trip even as the downpour saved the state from drying up and blowing away.

I’m not ungrateful. Just terribly guilty of not participating in the required group mantra of “We need the rain.” I know farmers need the rain. And cities. And me. Still, there’s literally nothing I can do to make it rain. Or vice versa. If I remark that the rain ruined my weekend plans, I promise that won’t stop the rain from falling.

You have to be careful around here about how you speak about rain. It’s the sacred cow of California. No matter when it falls or how much it gives you, the required attitude is gratitude.

Curse the wind. Curse the sun. Curse the fog. But never ever curse the rain.

I grew up in farm country so I’m not ignorant of the water issues California is mired in. This isn’t the fault of the rain. Its simple supply and demand. One of these has gotten out of control. Guess which one. And it has nothing to do with turning off the tap while I brush my teeth (which I do, by the way).

We took a quick run up to Folsom Lake a couple of weeks ago to look at the damage the drought has wrought. It was shocking to drive past the massive dam and see the lake’s remnants. It was a hike to travel from the lake’s former waterline down to the existing one. The drought had even exposed ruins from a town that was purposely submerged when the dam was built in the 1950s. Now shells sit next to dusty concrete foundations.

A water war in California has been simmering for decades, with political grabs for water rights boiling over at various times. As long as we overcommit our water resources, statewide prayers for rain will continue.

Frankly, I think the rain gods are tired of it all.