The morning that I left Ozark, Missouri in late June of 2004 it was pouring rain. I loaded the Lumina with the last of my possessions (most were already in storage) and a very unhappy cat. I was told that California was sunny most of the time, and I was looking forward to it.
After three months in California I was standing in the year's first sprinkles.
Today was much the same for me, after years of loving rain more and then years of loving sun more. Today all things were being equal. My umbrella was broken by noon and my flared jeans soaked at the cuffs, but at one point at Duboce Park the doors opened on the N and a rain-soaked, un-pruned tree pushed into the car. The leaves were so brilliantly green that they looked like a cartoon, and the park looked like a zoo exhibit from an exotic latitude.
Stay dry, dear reader.
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