rainy seasons make nefarious degert tillers abnormal
In contrast, here in Southern California the runoff is skillfully channeled directly into the ocean. Something scientific means that the fresh water rainfall does not dilute the salt water ocean. On the way to the sea, the runoff takes significant portions of the ground along for the journey. (This mobile ground is deposited as mud on the nearby freeways.)
In Santa Barbara we are now at 155% of average for the current California rainy season. Other places had more dramatic and reliable rainy seasons.
In Nigeria, for example, the locals demanded that I mention the rainy season in the first bullet point of the project plan:
- Lay 500 meters of Fiber to Nitel — before the rainy season
Naturally, I complied. Predictably nothing happened for six months and at the official project review there was an enormous crash of thunder. The lights went out — but the room was illuminated by continuous flashes of lightening.
“Well! I guess we can all agree that we’ve missed that particular milestone.”
We ended hiring a team of scuba divers to pull the cable through the storm sewer.
In The Netherlands, the rainy season is exceptionally reliable. Nazy claims that it begins on January 1st and ends on December 31st. Dutch friends have informed me that there is a day in July when the sun shines. (In fairness, I also report that my good friend Bert from Holland, claims that “the sun is always shining in The Netherlands”. Bert is a very optimistic person.)
In Houston gravity is unable to direct rainfall off the land. (This happens because the city, 60 miles from the Gulf is only six (6) feet above sea level. Rain accumulates. I was on business trip several years ago. My 12th floor hotel room was flooding because rain, ‘falling’ horizontally, had breached the double paned windows. When I ventured to the rental car, the weather station said: “Heavy rain. Roads and Freeways are flooded in the usual places, take the normal precautions.”
The point is simple: the California rainy season is not predictable: sometimes it doesn’t rain in the rainy season. As a mathematics aside: here ’average’ rainfall is not an accurate as a predictor of ‘normality’. Rain either comes or it doesn’t. When it does, it arrives in very large quantities. Thus, we have a cycle. 4 years of approximately 4” of rain/year followed by one year with 45” of rain. This means the average rainfall is 11.4”, something that never happens. and is certainly not ‘normal’
Reader alert: I just got a Flash Flood warning on my iPhone. Herewith a picture of the dry creek next to our house. We can conclude that it is raining this rainy season.
As regular readers know, the Grand(est)son is now going to Montessori School. The school requires each student, regardless of toilet training status, to bring several pairs of underwear. Since Tiger, who knows the names of each of his 79 matchbox cars, is not interested in toilet training, several diapers would seem to me to be a better choice. (No one asked me.) Undaunted, Melika made the requisite purchase — an event that raises important questions:
“Do you know what ‘Dinosour. The degert you a bed of fory hare’ means?” Melika asked.
“You’ve misspelled ‘Dinosaur’,” I replied.
“That’s what is printed on the back of Tiger’s underwear.”
“Donald Trump is finally right about something. He says children’s underwear is manufactured overseas.” I replied. “He says it’s part of a nefarious Chinese plot to engender illiteracy in our children.”
“Donald Trump has nothing to do with Tiger’s underwear, Dan.” Nazy claimed. “And he would never use a word like ‘nefarious’.”
“He’s not qualified to comment on anything, Nazy,” I replied. “His proposals would be embarrassing in a middle school Civics class.”
This week, Nazy and I joined our friends Joel and Christine for another sailing adventure. The wind was perfect as long as we were on the open sea and outside of the harbour. The boat, with the tiller in the capable hands of either Joel or me, cut through the waves with the panache and speed of a torpedo pulling water skiers. Howeer, the sea was a bit, eh,…
“I’m having a swell time,” Joel noted as the bow of the boat pointed directly toward the sky.
“That’s because it’s such a sunny day,” I replied brightly.
As happened last time, problems arose when we returned. (Or more accurately when we ‘attempted to return’.) Winds became quiescent and the tide moved the boat backwards - ‘movement’ that impacted my tiller wielding capability.
“They need to put a dock outside the harbor where it’s always windy,” I muttered as a full-blown idea crossed my mind. “Maybe we should just wait for the tide to turn,” I said trying to get a rise out of Joel.
We made it back. Eventually. And Darius made it home to Beirut. And the grand(est)son is still grand.
For last week's letter, click here
The Grand(best)son and "Tiger Car"